Revelations
by piratepissoff
Summary: Season 4 AU. Dean and Bela are brought back from Hell and must face their differences on top of struggling to accept their roles in the Apocalypse. More problems arise when they are confronted by a situation neither of them are sure they want, but definitely know they aren't ready for. What decisions will they make and will it bring them together or only drive them further apart?
1. Descending

**AN:** I've seen and read a few Season 4 AU's with Bela and they were very good, each with their own shared and original ideas. So, naturally, it only made me want to write my own S4 AU, with my own special little twist. I'll also try to add a spin on the standard episodes that aren't mainly affected by my own ideas, but for the most part I'll only be incorporating things with my own changes, to keep from boring you readers with stuff I haven't altered and that you've already watched in the show.

I also want to make it clear that I don't own ANY characters unless stated otherwise. Also, to give further insight into the underlying "revelation" in this fic, I'll probably add some quotes or actually explicitly give the relevant info at the beginning of the relevant chapter. Just a heads up, nothing complicated, I just don't want to lose you guys if it gets to religion-y. OKAY LASTLY, the theme pulls from the Book of the Revelations and although I'm not very religious myself I'll be pulling information from the appropriate parts of the book. With that said, please enjoy and R&amp;R!

* * *

They found each other, once.

He showed up at her apartment, a little drunk, at some time around two in the morning. She wasn't sleeping—in fact, she hadn't been as of late, what with the clock ticking and her desperation growing and all—although that didn't mean that she wasn't a little more than annoyed when her doorbell rang at such an hour.

Bela should have been surprised to see him standing there, slightly wobbly and definitely out of his better judgment. She wasn't.

"What, no sneaking in and overriding my alarm system, Dean?"

His face didn't show any indication that the jab had registered with him. Instead, he stepped slowly inside, and although she was a little bit afraid of what this inebriated man who clearly hated her guts might do to her, she didn't budge. This left their bodies uncomfortably close; Dean looking down his nose at her, but not in a distasteful way, and his lips slightly parted, allowing the combined scents of spearmint and whiskey to curl their way into Bela's nostrils. She didn't bother making a face at him. She knew that in the state that he was in, he wouldn't notice.

"That proposal you made me. The one when we were after the hand of glory," the gruffness of his voice that she had come to so easily identify with Dean Winchester was absent, and instead replaced by a half-desirous, half-tentative growl-and-slur hybrid that she wasn't sure she liked or feared. Part of her, though, knew that she was leaning a little towards the former.

Bela tipped her chin ever so slightly upwards, ignoring the fact that his eyes were trailing an invisible line from her own grey-blue orbs down the bridge of her nose to her lips and repeating that same crash course as if his life depended on it.

She was undoubtedly curious. "I recall the one."

"If it's not still on the table, I'll leave," he breathed the words like they were a prayer. Even in his drunken state, Dean could see it in her eyes that the proposal was far from being off of the table. In fact, it had been damn near carved into the tabletop, and simply covered by the theoretical placemat that was their conflicting, well, _everything_.

Still, he needed to hear it from her. And he did.

He heard it in the way she pressed her lips to his, sucking in a shaky breath through her nostrils as she bit down on his bottom lip lightly. He heard it in the way she used her hand to bring his head closer to hers, while pressing the other flat against his chest to try and push him away. He heard it in the way she gasped as his mouth found her neck, biting the skin there as if he was trying to devour her pulse in one bite. He heard it in the way their bodies moved as one, shuffling into Bela's bedroom and slowly sinking down onto the sheets, hands forever wandering and lips never parting.

The two of them found each other, this one time, when they were both at the end of the line. They converted their desperation and exhaustion into raw energy and passion and used it to their advantage, wordlessly finding their happy endings—the ones that they were definitely not guaranteed or headed to in this screwed up world they found themselves in. And when they were done, they collapsed beside one another, still silent yet also _understanding_, and it was the one thing they both needed before they were dragged down into the pit.

* * *

Dean stayed there until morning. Bela pretended to still be asleep as she listened to him get dressed; he pretended to not know that she was awake as he wondered if he should stay a little longer. But then that silent understanding was dawning over them again, so Bela pressed her face into her pillow, and Dean got up and left.

Within the same week, she met with the accented demon in the pressed black suit, the one claiming to have a way for her out of her deal. She pretended that the terms didn't crush her; pretended that her actions wouldn't crush _Dean_, but this was her chance—her _one_ chance—and she was going to take it. Dean would never forgive her, but she liked living, and it wasn't like she _needed_ him to keep doing just that, after all.

Two weeks later, Bela Talbot died anyway, and Dean Winchester soon followed.

* * *

**AN: **I realize this chapter is short, but the others will be much longer. This is only a prologue, after all!

Anyway, thanks for reading and please review!


	2. Ascending

"Therefore, rejoice, you heavens, and you who dwell in them.

But woe to you, earth and sea, for the Devil has come down to you in great fury,

for he knows he has but a short time."

—_Book of Revelation, 12:12_

Somehow, in hell, things were both overwhelmingly loud and eerily quiet at once. It was like standing in a nightclub with a blaring headache, but also like being stuck in a cemetery at night. It was like being forced to listen to the sound of fingernails being dragged across a chalkboard over a loudspeaker, but also like holding your head underwater for minutes on end. It was like a gun being fired right next to your ear, but also like the period of silence while waiting for the bad guy to jump out in a scary movie.

At least, this was how Castiel would describe it if he understood these references.

Nevertheless, that didn't mean he didn't know the feeling. He was an angel, and they were void of emotions by default, but hell was _hell_, after all, and being here was definitely negatively affecting him, especially since he was currently in his truest form. Hell seemed to thrive on contradictions (among other, more terrible things, of course), and Castiel couldn't think of a greater contradiction than an angel in its purest form hovering about in the underworld, which was anything but _pure_.

He was an angel, yes, but that didn't mean that the effects of hell wouldn't take its toll on him if he didn't act fast.

It didn't take long to find Dean Winchester. He was arguably one of the most prominent captives of hell, so that meant that he'd also be heavily guarded. Castiel was right, he realized, once he descended to the area where he felt Dean's presence the strongest, only to find him surrounded by mangled, threatening faces with bodies made up of black smoke and borrowed and rotten inner and outer body parts. However, once Castiel got closer he realized that they weren't taunting an imprisoned Dean Winchester; they were _cheering_, or at least making the closest noises they could to a cheer, as the man in question pressed the blade of a sophisticated-looking knife into the gut of some overweight, screaming man.

Castiel wasn't surprised, though that didn't mean he wasn't a little unsettled at the prospect of the infamous Dean Winchester torturing souls. He had heard about the noble actions Dean had committed when he was still on Earth and Castiel had deduced that he was a man carved from justice, something that the angel himself could relate to. Therefore, seeing how corrupt the man had become in the four short months he had been trapped in Hell was discomforting, but Castiel had orders and those orders would restore Dean to the righteous human that he had been; the one _before_.

Gearing himself, and using a sizable portion of the little energy he had left, Castiel sent a pulse of raw power outwards, surging across Dean and the crowd of demons and erupting them in a burst of bright white light. When the light faded, the demons were all diminished, and Dean was slumped over at the foot of the torture rack and the man who had been strung up on it, who was also knocked out cold. Castiel wasted no time making his way towards Dean and forming a vibrant right hand out of his angelic energy, grabbing him by the left shoulder and pulling him away from the scene.

They weren't leaving hell just yet, though.

Castiel, knowing full well that his open attack on the crowd of demons definitely wouldn't go by unnoticed, surged deeper down into the crusts of the pit until he found himself in a small bedroom that obviously belonged to a young teen but also lacked the personal touch of one. The scene was clearly staged by the deceptions of hell, but as he saw her there, looking scared and defeated curled up on the bed; he knew that this was very much real for _her_, and not just some conjured-up act. On the other side of the room, a door edged open and she went immediately rigid on the twin bed, her face going impossibly white as the faceless being slithered its way inside.

"No, no, no…not again…." She jolted upright and pressed the flat of her back against the wall. "I'm not a _child_ anymore; you can't _do_ this to me!"

Castiel could not hear a voice in reply, but she responded as if there was one.

"I didn't _know_! But you were a monster, you sick son of a bitch, and you _deserved—_"

Forming a left hand out of his energy, Castiel firmly placed it over her right shoulder and surged upwards, away from the scene and the being tormenting her. He found a place that he thought was momentarily safe and gripped his targets tight, pouring the rest of his power into both of their limp bodies. Afterwards, another clap of white light flared around them and just like that, the three of them were gone.

For some reason, Castiel felt a sudden stirring in his stomach as he healed them. At the time he didn't think much of it; he simply blamed it on his energy and exhaustion being pushed to the absolute limit.

He should have thought harder.

* * *

Dean jolted awake with a gasp, instinctively going upright only to have his forehead hit cleanly against what sounded—and felt—like a wooden plank. Cursing mentally, he pressed the heel of his palm to his now-aching forehead and blinked away the stars until all he could see was the pitch black of darkness around him, gritting his teeth against the pain and trying desperately to think of a way out of what he now realized was probably a makeshift coffin.

It wasn't until he attempted to move his arms to pat down his pockets that he realized that there was something vaguely warm pressed up against the entire left side of his body. Using his left hand to dig into his pants' pocket, Dean was thankful to find his lighter still inside, and lifted the thing to his face before he struck his thumb against the side and a flame was created before him.

The back of Dean's head smacked against the wall of the plywood box as he was met face-to-face with the woman he'd thought he'd never see again—Bela Talbot. He let out another curse, this time verbally, and the combination of his yell as well as the impact of his head on the wood must have been just enough to wake Bela, because her eyes immediately shot open and found his own.

And she screamed.

"Ow, what the f—hey, shut _up_, would ya?" Dean's voice was hoarse and gravelly but he ignored it, instead scrambling to clamp his right hand over Bela's mouth to get her to quiet down. "Jesus Christ, it's just me!"

Bela quieted and instead breathed against Dean's palm, blinking at him as if it was taking her a while to register who "me" was. Finally, after what felt like eternity, she let out a single muffled word.

"Dean?"

He removed his hand from her mouth, praying that she wouldn't scream again, and swallowed roughly. "Don't ask me what the hell kind of a situation we're in, 'cause I got no friggin' idea."

Bela let out a short, quiet sigh before her voice fell flat with unamused recognition. "Dean."

"Yeah. Good to see you, too." His voice was laced thick with sarcasm, and instead of giving her a chance to speak again, he lifted the flame higher to illuminate the lid of the coffin, using his other hand to knock against the wood.

"Wai—what're you doing?"

"We are on a limited supply of oxygen here so I'd appreciate it if we kept the talking to a minimum," he replied, curt and flat as he moved to a new area of wood on the lid and continued knocking. "And I'm trying to find any weak places in the wood. We're breaking out of here."

"We're _what?_"

"Be prepared to push up as soon as I break through. We gotta move up against the falling dirt."

"Dean—"

The man in question smacked the flat of his fist hard against the wood, cutting her abruptly off. A faint crack in the wood touched both of their ears, but there was no major damage to anything except maybe Dean's knuckles.

"Dean, _stop_—"

He struck the wood again, grunting with the dull pain of the impact but also feeling a bit satisfied with himself when the sounds of the lumber splintering became apparent.

"Damn it—"

The last of Bela's protests were cut off as she prepared herself for what was inevitably coming next, as Dean reared his arm back as far as he could and connected his bloodied fist with a bundle of cracks that had formed in the lid. With a loud snap, a hole wide enough for the two of them to fit through formed in the lumber, and Dean let out a guttural "go" before they both started climbing upwards against the rapidly falling dirt. Bela could feel the burn in her already weak muscles as she made broad, swim-like strokes with her arms, using all of the upper-body strength she could muster as she pushed through bugs and roots and soil. Just right next to her, Dean seemed to be having an easier time surfacing, and by the time her head emerged through the Earth's initial crust, Dean was already hoisting himself up on to his feet.

Bela gasped for air as dust filled her lungs and she was left coughing harshly as Dean slowly rose and did a 360 of their surroundings. She was about to berate him for not helping her up when she noticed that he was not, in fact, outright ignoring her, but rather just distracted.

For all around them, every single tree within a five-mile radius had been uprooted and toppled over.

"What the—?" Bela gaped, getting up to her feet beside Dean.

"—hell?" he finished, briefly turning back to look at her half-knowingly, half-ironically. She would have frowned at him, but she currently lacked the energy to make proper use of any of her muscles.

"What is going on?" she ran a hand through her dirt-dusted hair and turned to look at Dean accusingly. "What did you do?"

Dean drew his eyebrows together and angrily jabbed an indicating thumb at his chest. "What did _I_ do? If you haven't noticed by the friggin' _grave_ we just dug ourselves out of, I've been pretty occupied as of late!"

Bela frowned, wincing at the soreness she felt in her cheeks, but stood her ground anyway. "Alright then, what did your _brother_ do?"

Dean sighed and turned his head away. From what Bela could tell, her suspicions were being shared. "I don't know." She watched as his shoulders lifted and fell in a deep breath, before he turned around to face her completely. "Look, there are a lot of questions on the table here, I know. But before we even begin to try and get any of them answered, we need to get supplies. _Water_, most importantly."

Bela nodded, not finding any point in arguing with him now, especially when she knew that he was right.

"Let's just get walking. We'll figure out where to along the way."

* * *

They walked the next couple of miles in silence, navigating their way out of the forest to the best of their ability without any maps or common knowledge of the area. After what felt like for hundreds of miles, they finally emerged onto an open, desolate road and continued to follow that until they came up on a deserted-looking gas station in the middle of nowhere. In fact, they hadn't talked at all as they raided the gas station, gulping down numerous bottles of water in silence before moving on to separate parts of the abandoned store. Briefly, Bela paused to roll her eyes at Dean as he observed a rack of adult magazines and she tossed a granola bar at his head to divert his attention, which bounced off the side of his face and fell to the floor. He glared at her and was about to mumble something under his breath when a small television flicked on at the back of the store, playing nothing but static but bringing them to full alert nonetheless. Without a second thought, Dean scrambled through the aisles to find some salt and began lining the windows and doorways with the substance, with Bela quickly following suit.

However, during the middle of their preparations a loud, piercing noise dawned on them, attacking their eardrums and bringing them to their knees. They curled up on their respective spots on the floor, hands clamped over their ears and eyes screwed shut as the screech-like sound threatened to make their rise from the underworld an act done in vain.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the sound stopped.

Bela and Dean were left panting on the linoleum, blinking doubtedly as they geared themselves for the deafening noise to come back for another round. When it didn't, they both rose on shaky feet and immediately met gazes, exchanging a silent nod with one another before they quickly exited the store and walked across the street.

Finding a phone booth, Dean dug around for some loose change before dialing and making a call. When the person, whom she guessed was probably Sam, didn't answer, Dean cursed under his breath and poured some more change into the machine, dialing a different number.

"Bobby?" Dean paused, allowing the man to answer. "It's me...Dean…Bob—"

Dean held the receiver from his ear and sighed, jaw clenched, as the man on the other end of the line terminated the call with a _click_.

Bela raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you really think it'd be that easy?"

He glared at her out of the corner of his eye and lifted a finger off of the phone to point at her, while using his other hand to put in the last of his change. "Don't."

She smiled to herself as Dean held the phone to his ear again.

"Hello? Bobby, it's really me. I—_Bob—_will you just listen to—?" Dean groaned as Bobby hung up once again, slamming the phone on the hook before turning to give Bela a warning glare as he pushed past her and towards a car he had noticed on the way there. She wordlessly followed, simply smirking smugly at Dean's vexation, before climbing into the car that he had hotwired and accompanying him to wherever he was headed.

After all, she needed some answers, and it wasn't like she had anywhere else to go.

* * *

Hours later they were pulling into the parking lot of Singer's Salvage, Dean's hands shaking ever so slightly with the anticipation of what was to come next. Dean warned her not to say anything and instead follow his lead, and though she agreed, she knew that just because Dean would be showing his face first didn't mean that their initial encounter with Bobby Singer would go smooth sailing.

She was right.

As soon as Bobby opened the door and got over his initial shock at seeing Dean alive and in the flesh again, the old man lunged out at his surrogate son with a silver knife gripped in his hand, with Dean only dodging the attack last minute. Bela stepped back and let Dean handle the situation, watching as he wrapped his hands around Bobby's wrist and tried to strangle the blade from his grasp, which he did succeed in doing, only to have Bobby connect his fist with Dean's jaw and send him stumbling backwards into the wall.

Bobby had Dean pinned against the wall and was just about ready to end his life when Bela figured it was the appropriate time to intervene, stepping inside of the house and bringing Bobby's attention on her without directly placing a hand on him. She wasn't about to end up in Dean's situation, yet she wasn't ready to let him get killed. She still needed answers, and he was her best bet at helping her get them.

"Bobby," Bela began warningly, raising her hands at her sides to indicate that she was unarmed. "It's really Dean. It's really _us_."

"Bull_shit_," The older man seethed, though Bela could see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. "Prove it."

Dean jumped at the opportunity to get himself out of his current situation. "You're name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed, and you're about the closest damn thing I have to a father." Dean eyed the knife still gripped in his hand and motioned with his eyes to hand it over. "I can also prove I'm not a shapeshifter, if you'd just give me the knife."

Much to their surprise, Bobby easily slipped the blade into Dean's palm. But not long after that he stepped back and pulled out a gun from his waistband, pointing it at the two of them and indicating for Dean to continue.

Without any hesitation, Dean dragged the blade across his skin and showed Bobby the evidence, or lack thereof, supporting that he wasn't a shapeshifter. When Bobby's eyes shifted over to Bela, she nearly groaned but instead gritted her teeth as Dean took her arm and repeated the process.

"You see? Not a shapeshifter."

Bobby was quiet for a moment; then he dropped his arm and engulfed Dean in a hug. "It's good to see you, boy."

Watching them hug it out, Bela started to grow increasingly uncomfortable, but then Bobby stepped back and splashed Dean in the face with some clear liquid from a small bottle.

"I'm not a _demon_, either, Bobby," Dean replied, trying to keep his patience in check as he heard a quiet snort come from Bela's direction behind him. He dragged his hand across his face to get rid of any excess holy water and blinked at the man before him. "But yeah, it's good to see you, too."

"How'd you…you _two_ get out?" Bobby began, eyes narrowing. "Why is she here anyway?"

"That's what we're here to find out," Bela said.

Dean nodded. "We don't know anything yet. But for starters, can you tell me why you buried me with her in the first place?"

Bobby frowned, looking between the two confusedly. "What're you talking about? You and Sam left her body in Eerie. The last we heard, her body was still being kept as evidence in the local police department." He turned to address her. "You were marked as a Jane Doe. I guess the detectives on your murder case still wanted to keep you around for…you know…."

Bela swallowed, uncomfortable. "Yeah. I get it."

He nodded and turned back to Dean. "But that was it. We buried _you_ in a pine box in the middle of the woods, but I guess you knew that."

"Why _did_ you bury me, anyway?" Dean asked.

"I wanted you salt and burned, the usual drill, but Sam insisted on burying you. Said you'd need a body to come back to when he got you out. Speaking of, how are you still…?" Bobby made a vague motion at their bodies, not knowing how to phrase his question without sounding completely insensitive.

"In tact?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Hell if I know. The only thing we both have to show are these marks on our shoulders. They look like welted handprints; mine on my left shoulder, hers on her right."

They had discovered their markings on their drive to Bobby's, when all of a sudden, as they were driving down the highway, their shoulders had started burning and pulsing with pain and they had to pull over before they got into a car accident to check them out. As soon as they rolled up their sleeves and observed their marks, the pain stopped, but they were still wary of it coming back the entire ride to Singer's Salvage.

Bobby nodded, looking over the marks and showing no indication as to what they meant or where they came from.

"Where's Sam? I tried his number before I called you but there was no answer."

"He's alive, as far as I know," Bobby replied, his vague answer immediately causing Bela to raise her eyebrows.

"Good…" Dean nodded, before he also caught on to the implication. "Wait, what do you mean, 'as far as you know'?"

"I haven't talked to him for months."

"You're _kidding_," Dean nearly snapped, causing Bela to prepare herself to stop another altercation. "You just let him, what, go off by himself?"

"He was dead set on it," Bobby argued. "And he's hardly a kid anymore. Look, Dean, we were both dealing with your death. Neither of us took it exactly easy, and he was adamant about going off on his own."

Dean opened his mouth as if to argue but Bela spoke up before he could say anything. She gave him a warning look before sliding her eyes between him and Bobby. "Really, there'll be time for arguing over Bobby's lack of babysitting skills later. First, we need to figure out what the hell brought us back. We need to find your brother."

Bobby frowned and looked at Dean, who was glaring at the side of Bela's head. "You think Sam got you guys out?"

"It's our best lead," Dean sighed, running a hand tiredly down his face. "She's right. We need to find him."

"Okay, sure, but what makes you think—no offense—that Sam would bring _her_ back?"

Bela said, "None taken," though she couldn't exactly state that the comment didn't hurt her feelings, no matter how much it made sense.

"I don't know, _god_, I don't know!" Dean said, frustrated. "This is all screwed up. I got so many questions flying around my head I'm like a friggin' walking survey."

Bobby let out a deep breath, turning to grab his cell phone off a nearby table. "Well, even if Bela _is_ the giant question mark in this entire situation, Sam definitely is our starting point. I'll call a few contacts of mine and see if they've seen him around or heard anything about where he is or what he's been doing. Don't worry, Dean. We'll get this mess all sorted out."

Dean wanted to believe him. He really did.

* * *

**AN: **I was so excited to start writing this chapter, that I started to write it in my notes on my phone because I couldn't get home fast enough. I hope you all enjoyed it and **please R&amp;R**! I would also like to give a special shout out to user **Marcus S. Lazarus**. They are a big part of why I wanted to write a Season 4 AU.

Also, I wanted to change up some of the original dialogue in the actual scenes (ex: Bobby and Dean's first meeting since Dean's resurrection) to keep it slightly more interesting. I didn't want to follow the original words like a script or anything, but I also wanted to keep the initial theme of the situation in tact.


	3. Blinded by the Light

Bela had no idea what to expect as she waited with Dean and Bobby outside of Sam's rumored current location, but a pretty, half-naked woman was definitely not it. And from the way Dean's ears twitched and eyebrows raised, she figured that it had taken him off guard, too.

"Where is it?"

Dean had begun to unashamedly check the young woman out, much to Bela's annoyance, but the off-handed question seemed to only irritate him. "Where's what?"

She looked at him as if he had just said the stupidest thing she had ever heard. "The pizza?"

Bela put on a fake smile and leaned forward between her two male companions. "Sorry, it looks like we have the wrong room—"

She was just about to turn and leave, dragging Dean and Bobby with her, when an all-too familiar voice sounded from deeper inside the motel room. "Hey, who is it?"

The woman opened her mouth to answer, but before she could Sam Winchester appeared behind her and was left gaping at the odd party standing out in the hallway. Again, Bela felt awkward as Dean and Sam seemed to share a silent conversation with one another as they stood there making eye contact, and she was afraid that they'd stay like that forever before Dean made a motion to step inside the room.

"Sammy, boy, is it good to see—"

Dean was interrupted as Sam lunged forward and grabbed his brother by the collar, roughly yanking him inside while pulling out a sharp-looking knife from a sheathe attached to his waistband.

Bela sighed and rolled her eyes. "Not this again."

"Who the hell are you?" Sam yelled, holding the knife against Dean's throat before pointing it menacingly in Bela's direction as she calmly made an attempt to step inside.

"Why don't you ask the scar on your shoulder?" Despite her teasing tone, she stopped in her tracks.

Bobby had stepped up to hold an arm between the two brothers, bracing one of his hands against Sam's chest to try and pry him away from Dean. "Calm down, boy, it's really him. I did the whole test and everything; it's really _him_."

Bela waited patiently for Sam to notice the truth behind Bobby's words, and thank god that he was the smarter brother, because soon enough he was backing away and staring at all three of them as he tried to sort out his thoughts.

It didn't take him long, because soon he had his long arms wrapped around his brother's shoulders, nearly cutting off Dean's air supply.

"Hey, man," Dean laughed awkwardly as he clapped his brother on the back. Once they parted, Sam narrowed his eyes at Bela in confusion.

"But—?"

Bela raised her eyebrows and sighed in finality. "So, I guess that doesn't make him the culprit."

"What're you talking about?" Sam frowned.

Dean, Bobby and Bela looked at the other woman—who had the sense to pull some pants on sometime within the past couple of minutes—anxiously, and she seemed to get the hint, as she widened her eyes and glanced in Sam's direction. "So, I guess I'll…."

Sam flattened his lips in a white line and bobbed his head awkwardly. "Yeah, um, thanks, Katy."

The girl flushed with embarrassment as she narrowed her eyes at him from the doorway. "It's Christy."

"Yeah, uh, sure," With that, he closed the door in her face and turned to look at his three guests.

Bela raised her eyebrows. "That was…sincere."

Sam shot a look in her direction but didn't bother replying, instead turning his attention to his brother.

"So…I don't think I need to ask the obvious question?"

Dean ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah, and it's something we don't have the answer to, unfortunately. We came here in the slight hopes that somehow you were the one that brought us back, but _that_ theory had more holes in it than a slice of Swiss cheese…."

All three of the men looked at Bela fleetingly and she pretended not to notice.

From then on, they proceeded to fill Sam in with what little they knew, focusing mainly on the mysterious handprints on their shoulders. At one point Sam asked if they had remembered anything from hell and they answered truthfully: they didn't remember anything completely explicit, but knew that they definitely didn't want to think or talk about any more than they absolutely had to.

Dean, in an attempt to deflect their focus away from hell-related questions, frowned and looked at his brother. "Why are you here, anyway?"

Without thinking twice, Sam answered, "Looking for Lilith."

Bela visibly tensed at the name, struggling to maintain her composure despite her hatred for the demon in question. Dean was faring far worse; his jaw clenched and his hands formed into fists at his sides.

Before Dean could snap, Bobby stepped forward, an incredulous look on his face. "Hold on, you went after the old hag herself? Who do you think you are, your old man?"

"Yeah, uh, I'm sorry, Bobby," Sam apologized, "I should have called. I was…pretty messed up." A brief, awkward silence fell over them momentarily before Sam ran a large hand through his shaggy hair. "Anyway, I was tracking these demons up through Tennessee, and out of nowhere they took a hard left. Booked up here."

Dean drew his eyebrows together. "When?"

"Yesterday morning."

Bela's eyes met Dean's. "That can't be coincidental," she drawled, smoothing her hair behind her shoulder. "Do you think maybe them being here has something to do with us?"

"Could be," Dean shrugged. "But then again, who the hell knows? We're facing so many locked doors here that I've lost count."

Bela looked down and tried not to sound defeated. She wasn't very convincing. "Yeah."

It was Bobby's turn to speak up. "If your guys' uprooting has anything to do with demons, then maybe…well, are you two feelin' okay? Strange; different, even?" Bobby scratched the back of his head uncomfortably, especially as Dean's eyes seemed to narrow in on the old man.

"What kind of suggestion is that? How many times do I—_we_ have to prove it to you? I'm still me. Bela's still Bela…unfortunately," he gave her a side-eye glance and she ignored it, standing up to address the man questioning them.

"No, he's right. If demons brought us back, then there could be some chance that we're not entirely, well, us," she hated to admit it, but she knew it to be true. "We could just be unaware. I mean…."

She meant to finish with: _we've completely blanked out on everything that's happened to us in hell. Like our minds have been erased by something fearing we'd let out some big secret we might've found out down in the pit, _but she stopped herself before she made things any more difficult.

"You 'mean' what?" Sam pressed. Dean's gaze hovered on her for a moment.

Bela shrugged. "Nothing. All I'm saying is that Bobby has a point."

"I also have a psychic," The old man added. "Well, I _know_ a psychic. She could provide some further insight; might be able to clear up some fogginess. I could call her up. She only lives a few hours from here. With something this big, she might've picked up on some chatter from the other side."

Dean looked at Bela and Sam, who both gave him agreeing nods. "Sounds like our best shot. Even if it were otherwise, we don't have much of a choice here. Plus, I'm getting desperate for some answers."

Bela knew the feeling.

* * *

Bobby called up his psychic, Pamela, and arranged for the four of them to meet at her house the following day. It was getting late, and Bobby declared that Bela and Dean get some rest after the day's events (this earned some childish protests from them both; the two of them just wanting to get some answers as quickly as possible), so they were staying in Sam's motel room for the night.

After sleeping arrangements were settled, with Bobby and Bela ultimately being awarded the beds while the two brothers were left to fight over the couch in the living area, all four of them turned in for the night. Despite her exhaustion, Bela had initial troubles dozing off, but eventually fell into a brief sleep before waking hours later after tossing and turning for majority of her rest. Sitting up in the bed, she sighed, before she decided she needed some fresh air and crept towards the sliding glass door leading to their room's balcony.

Quietly sliding the door shut behind her, Bela walked over to the railing and stared out at the city behind her. The air was relatively warm, at least by nighttime standards, and she closed her eyes and took in an _actual_ deep breath for what felt like the first time since she returned to Earth. There was no fresh air in hell; no breeze. In fact, there wasn't even heat or the infamous hellfire that it was known for. Being in hell was like being stuck inside a vacuum; no air going in or out, needing to breathe but not feeling any relief when you did….

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Bela jumped at the sound of Dean's voice and she turned around to find him leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets. The pale illuminations of the moonlight layered over his features, making him seem somber and exhausted, both of which he probably was.

"No," She replied, turning her head back to the scenery once she recovered from the initial scare. "How long have you been out here?"

Dean walked up beside her, leaving a noticeable amount of space between them, and shrugged. "An hour or so."

They stood there in silence. The sounds of a car honking and a dog barking filled their ears. Shortly after that, a couple could be heard arguing from the street below. Somewhere a few rooms down, they could hear giggling and the sounds of splashing water from the motel pool. Bela sighed.

"It's weird, isn't it?" She felt Dean look at her profile questioningly. "These little sounds…they were so normal, maybe even obnoxious, before I was pulled into hell. They didn't have cars, or swimming pools, or bickering couples down there. Never in a million years would I have thought I'd miss the sound of them."

Dean let out a breath. "Yeah," it was a simple word, but she knew the significance behind it.

They were quiet again.

More sounds could be heard; a car engine revving, a police siren wailing, a front door slamming. Bela closed her eyes.

"Do you remember anything about hell? Honestly."

Dean sucked in a long, deep breath. "Bits and pieces, mostly. I just know that whenever I try to think about hell, it feels like I'm trying to perform brain surgery with the lights off. It's dark, and I don't know jack about what I'm doing anyways. You?"

"It's pretty much the same. Except I also get these cramps in my stomach. I get nauseous. It's like whatever happened to me down there, _I _don't remember what occurred, but my body does and it's trying everything to warn me to stop asking questions."

"But we keep digging anyway."

Bela laughed ironically. "We're playing a dangerous game."

"Yeah, well, the bastards, whoever they are, played with us first."

* * *

Dean Winchester had never been so happy to see someone in his entire life. He nearly dropped to his knees when he saw her, his eyes almost brimming with tears, as his lower lip quivered in long-awaited anticipation at the sight of her waiting patiently for him. He stopped immediately in his tracks to observe her, looking as beautiful as ever, resulting in Sam's colossal frame nearly knocking him over onto the asphalt.

Bela rolled her eyes at the older Winchester. "For heaven's sake, Dean, it's just a bloody car."

"It's true love, is what it is," he snapped back, making a beeline for the driver's seat of the Impala and leaving Sam, who was still recovering from his near fall, and Bela, who was already utterly and absolutely _done_ with Dean, standing in the middle of the hotel parking lot with what little things they had brought with them.

The two of them allowed Dean a few minutes alone with his "baby," deciding that it'd probably be best for them to get it out of the way now without having to observe anything weird on the drive to Pamela's house later on. For a while Bela and Sam stood awkwardly by; Bela's arms folded across her chest as she watched cars drive back and forth down the street and Sam with his hands shoved in his pockets as he kicked loose rocks around on the pavement. Bobby had left an hour or two earlier in his own car, wanting to get an early start before their day hours began to run out, so it was just the three of them for the meanwhile, and that meant one awkward hell of a ride.

Despite their short-lived connection the previous night, Dean and Bela still had their own personal history; one that neither of them was bound to forget any time soon.

Sam cleared his throat, pulling Bela out of her thoughts. "I just wanted to, um, thank you."

Bela raised an intrigued eyebrow. "For what?"

"Well, for not being that much of a pain in the ass so far, for one," he smiled lightheartedly and Bela chuckled softly. "Actually, yeah, that's pretty much it."

"It's my pleasure," she responded, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. "I want answers. Once I'm certain that me and Dean being separated isn't harmful to either one of us I'll probably depart, I'm sure, but for now I need some explanation." Sam nodded as Bela paused, but then she got a mischievous glint in her eye that he knew and was very much wary of. "But you must know that I'm still going to have to torture your brother until then."

Sam knowingly smirked. "Yeah, well, he's an easy target."

Bela hummed in agreement before Dean's head poked out of the driver's side window, an impatient expression on his face. "Hey, Draco and Hermione, are we going to go or what?"

As the two of them approached the Impala, Bela bent her head towards Sam. "I hope you know it's _you_ he's referring to as Hermione."

Sam let out a sigh. "Oh, yeah. I know."

The ride to Pamela's was relatively quiet. Dean was too happy to be back behind the wheel of his baby to talk majority of the car ride, while Bela focused on trying to make up for the sleep she lost the previous night with a nap in the backseat. Sam was preoccupied with playing the role of navigator to engage in any real conversation with his brother, and besides, all of the important topics they needed to cover would be best discussed when there wasn't someone else within earshot of them. Not only that, but Sam's main concern was how Dean was coping with being out of hell, and not only did Dean definitely not want to talk about that, but Sam was having a hard time understanding why.

Hours later, they arrived at a conservative-looking two-story house in the suburbs, approaching the front porch of said home after Dean placed the Impala into park directly behind Bobby's beat-up car. Sam was just about to ring the doorbell when the door was yanked open, revealing an attractive brown-haired woman that had to be somewhere in her thirties smiling broadly at them from inside. Standing directly behind her was Bobby, who was looking unsurprised at the fact that Pamela had opened the door before the party of three could even announce themselves.

"How did you—?"

Pamela grinned broadly. "Psychic," she reminded them.

Dean smirked. "Ah. How could we forget?"

"Mm. You must be Dean," The tone in Pamela's voice was one that seethed absolute hunger. The woman could have probably devoured him in one bite and the notion made the hairs at the back of Bela's neck prickle with annoyance, although she liked the woman so far and _definitely_ had no reason to be jealous of her. A slight, shy blush crept its way up Dean's throat, and Bela subconsciously reached up to scratch at the back of her neck.

Pamela's eyes slid to Sam, where she smiled warmly at him. "And you, of course, are Sam, if that ass is any indication," She leaned forward and held a hand to her mouth as if to tell him a secret, but kept her voice at nearly the same volume. "The spirits have been talking _a lot_ about that butt of yours."

Bela smirked. "Does one of them happen to be an old woman named Gert?"

A slight snort escaped from Dean's nose as Sam's face burned a deep shade of red, and Pamela leaned to the side to get a better look at the Englishwoman, whose body had been mostly hidden by the younger brother's gargantuan frame.

"_You're_ Bela, unmistakably," Pamela smiled in reception. Bela was happy to notice that her greeting was actually genuinely warm, unlike others who had used the same words to greet her in the past, but with a tone of distaste or wariness. If Bobby informed Pamela of the things Bela had been known to pull in the past, which he probably did, the psychic certainly didn't show any indication at harboring any resentment towards the young woman for doing so.

"This is Pamela Barnes," Bobby nodded in affirmation. "Best damn psychic in the state."

"Try the entire coast, hun," she winked over her shoulder, stepping aside to give the three newcomers some space. "Come on in."

As they followed Bobby and Pamela down the hallway, Dean immediately got down to business. "So, you hear anything from the other side?"

"Well, I Ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits," Pamela called as they ventured deeper within the house, "and no one seems to know who broke you two out, or why. Either that or they're simply not talking."

Bela could hear Dean sigh, sounding defeated. "So what now?"

Pamela sent a lascivious grin over her shoulder at the older Winchester but answered him nonetheless. "A séance. See if the culprit is feelin' guilty and wanting to come forward."

At that thought, a dull ache had formed in Bela's right shoulder and she lifted her hand up to massage it subconsciously. "You're not seriously thinking of summoning the bloody thing _here_, are you?"

The psychic turned to give Bela a soft, reassuring smile. It was one an adult would use to console a hurt child, and Bela wasn't sure whether it bothered or comforted her.

"No, I just want to get a sneak peek at it," Pamela explained. "Like a crystal ball without the crystal."

Bela was getting ready to politely object, but before she could, Dean clapped his hands together and grinned. "I'm game."

Bela knew that whenever Dean Winchester got excited about something, whatever was coming next was bound to take a turn for the worse. She should have prepared herself better for what was inevitably waiting for them around the corner.

* * *

Moments later they were crowded around a small, black-clothed table, with Dean and Bela sitting on either side of Pamela, and Bobby and Sam seated just in front of them. Pamela had her palms placed on each hell veterans' marks, her hand feeling uncomfortably hot against the welted skin on Bela and Dean's shoulders.

"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle."

The four of them waited patiently as Pamela chanted this mantra over and over, her fingertips seeming to press harder and harder down on the two prints the more she repeated the words.

It seemed to go on forever, Bela thought, and soon she became numb to the discomfort in her shoulder altogether. In fact, it felt as if the mark had disappeared completely and Bela flexed her upper arm experimentally as she drowned Pamela's voice out, focusing on what she thought was white light glowing out from under the psychic's slender fingers.

Bela was about to open her mouth to comment when the woman in question spoke out.

"No, sorry, Castiel. I don't scare easily."

Dean and Bela met eye contact; neither of them showed any recognition at the mention of the name.

"Castiel?" Dean questioned, his eyebrows knitting into a frown.

"Its name," Pamela clarified. "It's whispering to me; wanting me to turn back."

Suddenly, Dean and Bela bowed their limbs in agony, gripping their hands over Pamela's own as intense pain surged through their marks and the rest of their bodies. Using their other hands to clamp over their ears, it seemed as if the screeching noise they heard at the gas station was back and louder than ever; though it also appeared that the noise was only affecting Dean and Bela, as the expressions on Bobby and Sam's faces were more of alarm than agony.

"Maybe we should stop—" Bobby shouted over the combined yells of Dean and Bela, looking apprehensively at the table before them as it started shaking violently.

Pamela shook her head disobediently. "I almost got it!" Sam was about to object and side with Bobby when the psychic gripped both of her subjects and chanted, "I command you! Show me your face! Show me your face _now_, Castiel!"

At that moment, a large pulse of power quaked from Pamela's hands into Bela and Dean's respective bodies and Bela thought that maybe they might have been killed in the séance's process, but then she could still feel Pamela's painfully tight grip on her shoulder and knew that she was very much still alive. Suddenly, an explosion of white light erupted in the room, almost as if the entire roof had been torn off of the house, and when Bela finally mustered enough courage to open her eyes, she nearly fainted.

Pamela's body had been rectified completely straight; her head tipped towards the ceiling as a ray of the white light burst through her, shining the beams out of her eyes and mouth, which had been left hanging open in a wordless scream.

Once Pamela's body slumped over the table, the shaking and the screeching and even the white light had diminished, and the only thing that echoed in Bela's ears was her heartbeat.

It was quiet for a moment, and then a faint whimpering could be heard coming from the woman sitting between Bela and Dean.

"I can't _see_…."

* * *

**AN: **Feedback much appreciated! Sorry this chapter wasn't as original, but it is important and I wanted to incorporate it.


	4. Angels and the Apocalypse

Bela stood outside of Pamela's hospital room, solemnly trying to stop staring at the bandages wrapped around the resting woman's eyes. She had been out of ICU for almost an hour now, but a largely selfish part of Bela didn't want to even think about what it looked like under the gauze secured around her head. After all, Bela was an ample reason why Pamela was even laying in that hospital bed in the first place, _right_?

Out of the corner of her eye, Bela could see Dean approaching her, his hands in his pockets and his expression tense. He had just gotten done speaking to the police, having given them a fabricated story that Bela couldn't bring herself to hear the details of, though it seemed to be believable enough, as the cops weren't pushing the subject much further.

"Hey," Dean greeted quietly, glancing briefly—_guiltily_—through the window into Pamela's room before setting his eyes on Bela's exhausted-looking frame. "What did the doctors say?"

"Nothing we didn't already suspect," she replied quietly, tearing her eyes away from Pamela's sleeping form but not being able to look at Dean just yet. "She's permanently blind."

Bela could see Dean's fists ball at his sides and she winced as his body tensed beside her. "God _damn_ it," he growled out the words through clenched teeth, as if it was taking all of the effort in his body to not shout. "I should have thought of another way to find some answers. I shouldn't have let Bobby call her."

A shaky hand being raised to the mark on Dean's shoulder instantly made him tense up, though he relaxed once he realized it was only Bela trying to calm him down. He glanced at her briefly out of the corner of his eye before honing in on an invisible spot on the ground above his feet.

"This is not just on you," Bela said sympathetically, although her voice didn't lack any edge. "Don't put all the blame on yourself, Dean."

"But—"

"Pamela knew what she was getting into," Bela said, and although she felt disgusted with herself as the words crept past her lips, she knew that what she was saying was completely right. By the way Dean's jaw clenched, he knew she was right, too. "Bobby and Sam tried to stop her. She wanted to keep going. This is _not_ your fault, Dean. If anything, it's what did this to her who should be blamed."

Dean was quiet for a moment before he sucked in a shaky breath. Bela had since dropped her hand from his shoulder, but he could still feel the mark underneath his shirt coursing with dull heat.

Wanting to change the subject, Dean swallowed. "Where are Bobby and Sam, anyway?"

"Bobby's talking to the doctors. He told them that he's Pamela's father, so they've been asking him a bunch of questions. For the meantime, he's gonna stay here and watch over her," Bela explained, running a hand through her honeyed locks. "Sam disappeared a while ago. Said he needed to get some fresh air."

Dean nodded, gritting his teeth. "He probably went to go find anything related to this 'Castiel' bastard. I don't blame him."

"Do you want to go find him?"

The older Winchester sighed before shaking his head. "No, it's…uh, it's best to just leave him alone when he's doing research. If he really wanted me to come along, he would've asked. Anyway, I think I'm going to go for a drive. Being here is making me…."

Bela glanced at him in understanding. "Anxious. I know the feeling."

Dean chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Do you want to come?" he was probably going to regret it later, but if Bela was feeling anything like he was at the moment, she could probably use a break. It was selfish of both of them, leaving Pamela just like that, but like Bela said, Bobby would still be with her, and Dean was beginning to feel as if the hospital walls were closing in on him.

"Yeah. Sure." Bela sniffed, turning and walking side-by-side Dean as they left the hospital and approached the Impala. Once inside, Dean flicked on the music to give them an excuse to not talk to one another, much to Bela's gratitude, and she leaned her head against the doorframe as Dean pulled out of the hospital's parking lot and back onto the street.

Bela felt a bit hypocritical for the speech she had told Dean outside of Pamela's room; she _knew_ that she had been right, but that didn't mean she didn't feel the guilt bearing down on her shoulders anyway. Any of the four of them could have stopped Pamela if they _absolutely_ wanted to, but their own curiosity and desperation for some truth about Bela and Dean's uprising from hell proved to be more of an important factor to them than general safety, if Pamela's own sacrifice was any indication. Pamela _herself_ wanted answers just as badly, but still, that wasn't an excuse for the rest of them not stopping the psychic from going too far.

Dean suddenly pulled the Impala into a parking lot belonging to a quaint-looking diner, not saying a word to Bela as he put the car in park and clambered out, shutting the door behind him. She followed him quietly inside, an overhead bell jingling as they pushed the front door open and stepped inside the diner, signaling their arrival.

A waitress greeted them, her smile tight, before Dean and Bela followed her to a table in the center of the restaurant. They sat down and studied the menus, and after the waitress came back to take their orders, she tucked the order ticket into the front pocket of her apron and sat down at the table with them, crossing her legs at the knee.

"I didn't know this was a lunch for three," Bela hummed, despite all of her senses going off in full alert as the waitress looked at her, unamused.

Dean frowned at the woman suspiciously. "What the hell is going on?"

The waitress _tsked_ under her breath, her eyes suddenly going black as she blinked. "For someone who's actually _been_ to hell, I would have expected you to take to using the term more lightly."

Dean was just about to pull out a bottle of holy water from his back pocket when the waitress held up a hand and signaled for the two humans to look around the room. When they did, they were greeted with dozens of pairs of black eyes watching them as every other "person" in the room glared threateningly at the two humans sitting at the table.

"Don't act so surprised," the waitress continued, lowering her head. "You _were_ looking for us, after all, weren't you?"

Dean gritted his teeth. "That'd be my brother. But, what the hell, I'm up to offing a couple demon a-holes today. What about you, Bela?"

"Cute," the demon narrowed her eyes at him and put on a fake smile. "Dean Winchester and Bela Talbot, plucked from hell like feathers from a rotting chicken. Tell me. How does it feel to be tossed back into the frying pan?"

"Is that a diner pun? If so, I think you need to switch up your sense of humor. I didn't realize demons were so corny_—_" Dean was interrupted as the demon-waitress snapped her fingers in the air, bringing his attention to her as she stared at him menacingly.

"Enough. Who dragged you out of the pit?"

Dean smiled smugly at the demon questioning them. "Above your pay grade, is it?"

Bela looked apprehensively at Dean. Was he _trying_ to get them killed?

"Watch your tone, boy, or I'll send you back down myself—"

Dean laughed. _Actually_ laughed. If they survived this ordeal, Bela was going to murder him herself. "Nah, I don't think so," he taunted, leaning forward to look the demon in the eye. "I don't think you've got the juice to do all that."

"Excuse me?" the waitress seethed, though Bela could see traces of hesitation in her eyes. Bela sat straighter and tilted her chin up towards the demon.

"He's right, isn't he? Of course, if he's wrong, you could just send us back to hell now; save you the headache of listening to him taunt you any longer." Bela smirked as the demon grit her teeth angrily, her fingers tightening on the edge of the table, though she didn't do anything else but that.

"Thought so," Dean scoffed, scooping up his car keys from the table. "Before you try to threaten us again, I suggest you work on practicing your poker face."

As Bela and Dean stood up, the demon had no choice but to watch them walk out the diner's door, the bell jingling above their heads as they left.

Outside, once she was sure that none of the demons were following them, Bela let out a shaky breath. "Are you suicidal?"

As they got inside of the Impala, Dean frowned. "What're you talking about?"

"I'm talking about in _there_. How were you so sure that they wouldn't attack us?"

Dean turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the diner, focusing on putting as much space between them and the demons as quickly as possible. "I wasn't."

"_What?_"

"I've played enough hands of Texas Hold 'Em to know when someone's bluffing, human or otherwise," Dean replied calmly, ignoring the fact that Bela was currently glaring at the side of his head in disbelief.

Bela sighed angrily and twisted her body forward, folding her hands over her chest and working her jaw. "You are unbelievable."

"Well, what did you want me to do? We were unarmed and _very well_ outnumbered. We could have squirted holy water in their faces all we wanted, but that wouldn't have gotten us anywhere but surrounded by a mass of pissed-off demons."

Bela was quiet. She knew he was right.

"We need to get back to the hospital," Dean continued once he realized that Bela wasn't going to argue anything further, "Something tells me that demons might have had squat to do with us coming back, after all."

She turned her head to look at him wearily. "What do you have planned?"

"Just trust me."

How could he ask her _that_, after he just gambled with their lives only minutes before?

* * *

Looking back on their track record, Bela had no idea why she was putting so much faith in Dean and his so-called plan.

When they got back to the hospital, Sam was still nowhere to be seen and although Dean was initially worried, his troubles were laid to rest once the younger Winchester had called and informed them that he had, in fact, been researching about Castiel for the past few hours. After informing them that he might've found something relevant but wanted to dig a little deeper to make sure, Dean told him to keep up the good work and check in once he had something useful before hanging up, leaving out the fact that he had a plan of his own brewing in his head; a plan that had Bela feeling very anxious.

She was especially feeling anxious as she stood in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, watching Dean and Bobby draw up the last of their summoning symbols on the warehouse's walls. As Dean turned around to set down a paint can, he glared at Bela impatiently.

"Would it kill you to help?"

Bela narrowed her eyes at him in return. "It just might, considering we don't know what the hell we'll be facing once we summon it."

"And that's if this ritual actually works, anyways," Bobby reminded, picking up a shotgun that had been leaning against a crate.

"Yeah, well, here goes," Dean said, adding the finishing touches to a symbol on the ground before bracing himself for whatever was to come next. When nothing happened, he turned and glanced at Bobby confusedly. "Are you sure you chose the right ritual?"

"Of course I'm sure," Bobby scolded. "Don't question me, boy—"

He was cut off as the sound of the wind picking up against the warehouse became apparent; whistling through the broken windows and sending dust clouding around the room. Bela shielded an arm before her eyes as the light bulbs overhead suddenly shattered and glass rained down above them, while using her other hand to blindly find a weapon to defend herself with. On the other side of the warehouse, Dean and Bobby readied their shotguns toward the front door just as they blew open with a forceful bang.

The two men hesitated to start firing as they watched a middle-aged man calmly step inside, his face void of any emotion and, in fact, looking more unaffected by the scene before him than anything. Bela raised an eyebrow at the simplicity of the man's appearance; he was clean-shaven and dressed in a cheap-looking trench coat and casual suit, standing at an average height with an equally average build. She narrowed her eyes at him confusedly as he looked calmly between the three humans staring at him down the barrels of their guns.

It wasn't until the man began to take a step forward that Dean shot at him, followed by Bobby and, more hesitantly, Bela. The man calmly stepped through all of the devil's traps they had painted on the concrete floor, getting neon paint on his casual loafers, yet remaining unaffected as bullets tore through his clothes and bounced off of the walls behind him.

The man didn't stop until he was standing at least a few feet before Bela, where she raised her gun and fired a shot off at the ground in front of his feet. He seemed not to notice the act as he bowed his head awkwardly in greeting in Bela's direction, his arms stiff at his sides.

Dean came up quickly behind the man and embedded a serrated knife into his shoulder, but the man didn't show any indication of pain, only acute interest in the fact that Dean actually thought the sneak attack would have hurt him.

"Who are you?" Dean barked, stepping back and raising his weapon again as the man turned and blinked back at him tranquilly.

"I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," he replied matter-of-factly, watching as Bobby advanced towards him with his own shotgun at the ready.

"Big whoop for you," Dean said, indicating for Bobby to step forward and check the man for any weapons, although all three of the humans knew that it would be a useless act anyway.

The man allowed Bobby to pat him down, though he looked confused as to what the older man was doing, and when Bobby stood up and indicated to Dean that the stranger was clean, the man calmly raised two fingers up to Bobby's forehead and sent him collapsing to the ground.

"What the hell—?" Dean yanked the man by the collar of his coat as Bela bent down to check Bobby's pulse. Once she confirmed that he was still alive, only unconscious, she nodded at Dean, who turned his attention on the being—who looked completely non-threatened—in his grip. "What did you do?"

"The three of us needed to talk," he explained, looking between Dean and Bela before glancing briefly down at Bobby's unconscious form. "Alone."

Dean growled. "Who _are_ you?"

"I am Castiel."

"I figured as much," Dean spat, pressing the barrel of his shotgun firmly against Castiel's abdomen. "Now, _what_ are you?"

"I am an angel of the Lord."

As Bela's eyes widened in disbelief, Dean's fist tightened around Castiel's collar before he roughly pushed him away. "You're lying. Angels are myths."

Castiel bowed his head, not bothering to fix his now-disheveled clothing. "You lack faith, Dean," he turned to look at Bela. "She has more, if only a little."

"You know my name?" Dean asked, apprehensive.

Castiel nodded in confirmation, gesturing between the three other forms in the room. "I know all your names."

Dean shook his head, still disbelieving. "I don't believe you. Prove it. Prove you're an 'angel of the Lord,'"

Wordlessly, Castiel moved to the center of the warehouse, where two large, translucent wings became illuminated as a large clap of lightning and thunder sounded from outside. As soon as the acts of nature subsided, the wings were gone.

At the sight, both Bela and Dean's marks glowed white with dim light, though they couldn't feel anything there except for a low pulse of dull heat.

"Yeah, well, some angel you are," Dean chided, lowering his gun ever-so-slightly. "You burned out that poor woman's eyes."

Images of Pamela lying in her hospital bed began to cloud in Bela's mind, but she quickly pushed them away as she watched Castiel bob his head in acknowledgment.

"I warned her not to spy on my true form," he said, surprisingly sounding the slightest bit apologetic. "It can be…overwhelming to humans. So can my real voice, but you already knew that."

"You're referring to the gas station," Bela asked incredulously. "That was you _talking?_"

Dean scoffed. "Buddy, next time, lower the volume."

"That was my mistake," Castiel replied, "Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you two would be among the few. I was wrong."

Dean tipped his chin towards the angel. "Oh yeah? And what 'visage' are you in now?"

Castiel bent his head down to look at his body in acknowledgment, seemingly still unaffected by the multiple tears and creases in his clothing. "This? This is a vessel."

"What, you're _possessing_ someone?" Dean asked disbelievingly, suddenly hesitant again.

"He's a devout man," Castiel responded, as if it was the only explanation needed. "He actually prayed for this."

"And that's supposed to make it okay?" Bela frowned, coming up to observe the angel closer. "You _do_ know what else possesses humans, don't you?"

"Demons do not answer to prayer," Castiel said straightforwardly, though he didn't seem the least bit offended that she was comparing him to servants of the devil.

"You know, it might've saved us a hell of a lot of time if you would have just approached us in a human body in the first place," Dean pointed out, finally lowering his gun completely.

Castiel sighed, as if he was trying to understand where Dean was coming from. "There were multiple things preventing me from taking over my vessel right away. Angels need consent to enter their vessel's bodies…but before that, I needed to recover from the time I spent in hell saving you two."

"About that, not that I'm not grateful or anything, but why save _us_, out of all people? I mean, what do we have to offer to this world?" Dean asked.

"I was acting on orders from God," Castiel answered, looking between the two humans as they watched him expectantly. "And a lot. You have a lot to offer. You have your destinies to offer."

Dean frowned. "Right, and what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I will inform you later, when there is enough time," The angel turned and calmly began to walk out of the warehouse, as if leaving on a cliffhanger wasn't a rude thing to do to two heavily confused souls.

Bela began to follow Castiel out the door. "Wait—"

Before she could stop him, another flash of lightning and thunder grumbled overhead, and Castiel was gone.

* * *

"So, I did some more digging into this Castiel…and Dean, a lot of what I've found is weird. It's saying that Castiel is an—"

"An 'angel of the Lord'? Yeah, man, we know. We just had a run-in with the holy bastard himself." Dean said into the receiver, cutting Sam abruptly off as he paced around the front of the warehouse. Behind him, Bela had just managed to wake Bobby up, and was helping the old man back to his feet.

"_What?_ What do you mean?"

Dean sighed. "I mean, while you were off playing librarian, Bela, Bobby and I decided to summon the guy here."

Bela came up behind Dean, her hands on her hips. "For the record, _you_ decided to summon him here, and I got roped in along with it. And now, poor Bobby has got a concussion, so we should get him somewhere safe, fast."

Dean shot her a glare but nodded anyways, turning as she walked away from him. "Look, man, I gotta go. Meet us back at the hospital. We'll find ourselves a motel near there and fill you in on the details."

"Dean, I—"

Before Sam could argue, Dean snapped his phone shut and slid it into his jeans pocket. He then walked over to Bobby and Bela and filled them in on their new plans before scrambling to help the former, who nearly toppled over as he pushed off of the crate he had been leaning against.

Bobby swatted Dean's hand away in annoyance. "Don't fuss over me, boy. I may be concussed, but I didn't forget how to walk."

Dean backed off, though he gave the old man a doubtful look.

A few hours later and Dean, Bela and Sam had gathered at a motel down the street from the hospital, deciding that it'd be best to leave Bobby in the care of the doctors after telling them that the old man had collapsed and hit his head from the stress of his "daughter's" condition. Now the three of them were gathered inside a motel room; Dean and Sam seated at a table and Bela leaning against a short counter a few feet away from them as they filled in the younger Winchester on the day's events.

"I can't believe it," Sam was saying, eyebrows raised in half-doubt, and half-hope. "Angels are _real?_"

Dean scoffed. "Of course they aren't."

Bela frowned at him from where she was posted. "Dean—"

"You're not honestly telling me you believed him, are you Bela?" Dean snapped, looking at her incredulously. "I mean, I expected this from Sam, but I would have thought _you_ would have been just as skeptical of this entire thing as I am."

"We saw his wings, Dean. Are we just supposed to ignore that?"

"Have you never heard of an illusion before? Or maybe a deception? Because a lot of the supernatural crap we deal with on our hunts are pretty specialized in those two categories, so excuse me if I'm a little less than believing when—"

"_Enough,_ you two!" Sam started, standing up to look between Bela and his brother in exasperation. "You can argue, or flirt, or _whatever_ later. But I've got books, some biblical, pre-biblical, hell, even in cuneiform, saying that an angel _can_ pull a soul from hell."

Dean opened his mouth to argue but Sam simply pointed a finger and gave him a look that told him to shut up.

"And you read of nothing else that might be capable of doing it? Nothing at all, you're sure?" Bela waited for Sam to nod in response, before pointedly looking at Dean. "How is this not enough evidence to get you at least the slightest bit hopeful?"

Dean shrugged, though he knew the real reason.

Why was _he_ worth saving, when there was probably a hell of a lot more innocent people worth pulling out? Why save _Bela_, who deliberately sold her soul to kill her own parents, when Castiel could have used his powers for something more meaningful?

Why _them_?

Sam's voice brought his brother out of his thoughts. "Dean. This is good news."

The older brother scoffed. "How so?"

"Because for once, we aren't being buried underneath a mass of demon crap," Sam replied, causing Dean to make a face, which he deftly ignored. "I mean, maybe you and Bela were saved by one of the good guys?"

Dean sighed. "Okay. Say they're not myths. Angels are very much real and very much capable of doing the standard crap they're known for," he looked pensively between Bela and his brother. "So…what? That mean there's a God, too?"

Bela tipped her head in thought. "It wouldn't be much a stretch to assume so, yeah."

Dean abruptly got up and sighed, turning his back on the other two in the room as he ran a hand down his face. He stared out the window in thought, wanting nothing more than to stop the conversation entirely and burrow himself in one of the nearby beds.

"Christ, this is all screwed."

Bela's nose wrinkled as Dean took His name in vain—there was a possibility that He _could_ be listening right now, after all—as she watched his shoulders lift and fall with a deep breath.

"Look, Dean," Sam began, voice quiet, "I know. I know, okay? You don't think you're worth saving. Hell, if I was in your situation, I'd probably be thinking the same thing you are now. And Bela's, well…we all know what she was capable of before, so God wanting her saved specifically is questionable...but you two are here now. You have to face the realities that angels and heaven and God are—_can—_be very much real."

Sam shot Bela a look of apology, but she waved her hand dismissively. He had a point, after all.

"For right now, all we know for sure is that angels definitely _are_ real. How about we keep that as our middle ground and everything else is fair game?" Sam, who had lifted his arms at his sides to motion between Dean and Bela, waited for them to acknowledge his proposal. When they both gave their own quiet nods, Sam sunk down in his seat tiredly. "Good. Because arguing isn't going to get us anywhere; not when we're already so deep in the dark."

* * *

A week later, after Pamela had been deemed healthy enough—as healthy as one could get after just having their eyes disintegrated in their skull—and Bobby had recovered from the minor injuries he had received during his brief encounter with Castiel, he, Bela and the brothers relocated back to the old man's home in the heart of a fortress of rusted and run-down cars that was Singer's Salvage.

Sam and Bobby were sitting at a small table perusing through a hefty stack of thick, dusty books, while Dean and Bela, who would have preferred to be doing other things than spend their time researching, reluctantly flipped through online articles on angels and anything holy-related in Bobby's living area. After a fruitless search, Bela closed the lid of her laptop with a frustrated sigh, getting up from the couch she had been sitting on and announcing that she was going to go get herself something to drink.

She felt Dean's eyes hover suspiciously on her back as she made her way into Bobby's kitchen but didn't bother catching him over her shoulder; if he still wasn't going to allow himself to completely trust her, then there was nothing she could do about it. Instead, she grabbed a clean glass from the rack besides the sink and turned on the faucet, holding the cup beneath the stream of cold water and letting out a patient breath of air.

She heard a small, disapproving _tsk_ behind her and opened her mouth to follow with some witty one-liner, presuming she would be talking to Dean, when she shut off the faucet and turned around to face someone that was _very _much not the notorious hunter she had been brought back from hell with. In fact, this person wasn't even supposed to be alive, let alone standing in the kitchen of some man whom she had no connection to back before she died.

"Abby, Abby, Abby..." The woman shook her head derisively, tapping a skinny finger on her jawbone. "No, wait, it's _Bela_ now, isn't it?"

The glass slipped from Bela's fingers and shattered against the kitchen tile, the water sloshing against her boots as the woman before her frowned disdainfully at the mess on the floor.

"Hmph. Too bad there isn't a maid around here to clean this up…."

The woman disappeared as Dean came quickly into the kitchen, his gun already cocked and at the ready. If they had been in any other situation Bela might've chastised him for being so paranoid, but this problem was very much appropriate for the use of guns.

Bela opened her mouth to warn Dean but instead she let out a surprised scream as the woman who had once been her mother suddenly reappeared and shoved him into a nearby cabinet full of dusty china. He fell against the cabinet with a loud thud and ignored the sounds of the old plates clattering to the ground around him as he lifted his gun in the air and sent two bullets flying in the dead woman's direction, temporarily dissolving her image as she disappeared with a taunting laugh.

"Who the hell was that?" Dean asked, panting heavily, as Sam and Bobby stumbled into the kitchen with salt guns of their own, looking as uneasy as ever.

"That was my mother," Bela breathed, running a shaky hand through her hair as she accepted the pistol Bobby had handed her.

Dean frowned, incredulous. "You're _what_?"

Before Bela could answer, however, a bald, African-American man appeared behind Sam and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, Winchester. Been a while."

"Henriksen?" The younger brother whirled around, providing Dean with just enough time to squeeze off a single blast from his shotgun.

The man, Henriksen, reappeared at another doorway and waited for them to notice him. "Now, what'd you do that for? For all you knew, I could've still been alive."

Sam looked at the man apologetically. "I'm sorry. If we'd known Lilith was coming, we would have—"

"You wouldn't have left a dozen innocent people to die in your place, I know," Henriksen retorted, nodding as he stepped forward. "You did this to me. You and your _brother_ here. Lilith killed me, and it's all—your—fault!" The man took deep, ragged breaths as he shouted the last three words and before Sam could say anything further, Bobby dissipated him in a blast of salt rounds.

"We need to get to safety," the old man stated, indicating for the other three to follow him as he jogged down a nearby hallway.

"We don't even know what we're dealing with," Bela shouted as she ran, following despite her doubts.

Dean was the one to reply to her. "They look like ghosts, they act like ghosts, they're dead like ghosts; I'm pretty sure they're ghosts!"

The four of them rounded a corner, only to be greeted by an overweight man in a puffy vest and T-shirt. His eyes immediately locked on Dean's, though he did pause to glare fleetingly at Sam as well.

"Ronald! Hey, bud," Dean greeted, putting on a fake smile as the four of them stopped in their tracks.

"You know I'm _dead,_ because of you? You were supposed to help—"

The fat man was cut off as Bela squeezed off a single shot at his head. "I think it's best if we don't stop to have a talk with the ghosts that are trying to harm us."

Dean glared at her but the group continued running anyways, following Bobby down a flight of stairs and into a sizable round room guarded by a heavy iron door. Neither of them had a chance to close it as a skinny girl with blonde hair appeared at the doorway, though a line of salt that had been painted across the entrance prevented her from coming inside.

Sam narrowed his eyes at the girl. "Meg?"

The blonde girl raised her hand in a sinister wave and Bela immediately caught sight of a black tattoo staining the skin of her inner wrist.

"Meg's a demon," Dean reminded, "So, are we _not_ dealing with ghosts?"

"Oh no, I'm a ghost," Meg nodded in confirmation, her lips pressed into a small pout. "My name _is_ actually Meg. That monster living inside of me all those months just liked it, so she decided to take it for herself."

Sam looked at her. "Why are you here?"

"The bigger question is, 'why didn't you save me?' I watched as you conversed with me, the _demon_ possessing me, and I screamed and begged for you to help but you just didn't hear me. You could have if you used those demon blood powers of yours, but I guess you just didn't try hard enough."

Bela paused at the mention of "demon-blood powers" but felt that now wasn't the best time to bring it up. Instead, she watched as her mother reappeared behind Meg, her arms folded across her flat chest as she looked scornfully into the room. Just below her wrist bone, Bela noticed the same tattoo.

Her mom _definitely_ didn't have a tattoo at the time of her car accident.

"Abigail," Bela's mother said warningly, "Who are these strange men you've been accompanying yourselves with?"

Dean furrowed his brows. "Her name's _Bela_, you bitch."

Bela's mother blanched at Dean's language. "And _manner less_ men, at that."

When Henriksen appeared just beside Bela's mother, she immediately found the tattoo on his own wrist, though it had been partially covered by the sleeve of his shirt.

"All right, that's enough!" Bobby shouted, standing just before the doorway and sending a blast of shotgun shells flying down the hall. The ghosts disappeared and the old man turned to close the door behind him, slumping against the iron as the overweight man, Ronald, appeared through a small window on the other side of the door.

"Don't worry, the room's soundproof," Bobby assured, setting his shotgun on a nearby table momentarily. "For now, I got some books in here. We need to figure out what the hell's going on."

"I noticed identical tattoos on Henriksen, Meg, and my mother's wrists," Bela noted. "I don't know about the other two, but my mother sure as hell didn't have one before she died."

"Neither did Henriksen or Meg," Sam confirmed, frowning in thought. "It's probably safe to assume that Ronald has one now, too. Do you think you could draw the design of the tattoo?"

Bela nodded and accepted the pencil and pad of paper Sam handed to her, quickly and roughly sketching the round symbol she had spotted on each of the ghosts' wrists. When she gave the pad back to Sam, he frowned and scratched at the back of his head.

"I've seen this before," Sam said before handing the paper to Bobby, who had come up to observe the drawing for himself.

Bobby studied the drawing for a brief moment before humming something incomprehensible under his breath and crossing over to a bookshelf, picking out a navy tome and flipping through a few pages before he settled on one. He dragged his finger across the dusty paper before letting out a noise that sounded distinctively like "a-ha!" and handed the book over for Bela to observe.

"This it?"

Bela nodded as she studied the black symbol printed on the paper, reading the title written just beneath it. "'Mark of the Witness.'" She frowned.

"Witness to what? Witness to people indirectly getting others killed?" Dean asked, impatient.

"Witness to the unnatural," Bobby explained, passing the book over to Sam to read over. "None of them died what you'd call ordinary deaths. These ghosts…they were _forced_ to rise. They woke up in agony, they were like rabid dogs. It ain't their fault. Someone raised them…on purpose."

Bela scowled. "I don't know about the others, but my mother definitely wasn't one you would exactly call 'innocent.' If she rose in agony, the bitch very well deserved it."

Dean looked over at her, wondering what she meant, but decided that they should deal with the problem at hand before they started delving into any personal, deep and dark secrets.

"Okay, well, who raised them?"

Bobby shook his head. "Do I look like I know?" he paused briefly to glance back down at the book, which Sam had given back to him. "But whoever it was has some big ideas planned. They used a spell so powerful it left a mark, a brand on their souls. It's called the 'Rising of the Witnesses.' Fits into some kind of prophecy."

Dean, growing increasingly impatient with the build-up, motioned his hand in the air for Bobby to get on with it. "Prophecy? Prophecy of what?"

Sam, already a step ahead of his brother, pressed his lips into a thin line. "You're talking about Revelations, aren't you?"

"Doesn't that warn about—?" Bela began, only to stop short once Bobby nodded grimly at her.

"Sure does," he said, closing the book with a thud. "The goddamn Apocalypse."

* * *

**AN: **WHAT? Two updates in one day?

God, I enjoy writing this fic so much. I hope you guys enjoy. Please review!


	5. Home Sickness

"_Apocalypse?_" Dean gaped, his eyebrows bent together as he stared at Bobby in alarm. "The four horsemen, pestilence, five dollars-a-gallon-of-gas apocalypse?"

Bobby bobbed his head in confirmation. "The Rise of the Witnesses is a mile marker."

"Meaning that the Apocalypse is not far around the corner," Sam added grimly, using a hand to push his hair away from his face.

Dean groaned, turning halfway as he cursed under his breath and glared at an invisible spot on the wall. "Well, that's just friggin' great. Not only do we have angels raising tormented souls from hell, but now the damn _apocalypse_?"

"Dean, calm down," Bela said soothingly, ignoring the angry glance the elder Winchester shot in her direction. "While I agree that this apocalypse is…inconvenient, we need to focus on the bunch of ghosts after our heads at the current moment."

As if on cue, Henriksen's face appeared in the door's small window and smirked down at the four humans sinisterly.

"She's right, damn it," Bobby added, turning his head to look around the room. "There's a spell around here somewhere that should diminish the bastards for good. Or, at least, send them back to rest."

"And that's gonna work?"

"I think I've got everything we need to cast it," Bobby nodded. "If translated correctly, the spell should work," The old man winced as a new piece of information surfaced in his mind. "Catch is: the spell has to be cast over an open fire."

Dean cursed. The only place they'd be able to start a fire would be in the fireplace in Bobby's study, and that was not only a level higher in the house than they already were, but on the other side of the premises entirely. They'd need to stock up on iron weapons and more salt rounds before they even thought about opening the panic room's door.

The four of them split up in the small room to arm themselves with numerous weapons. Bela tucked the pistol Bobby had given her earlier between her back and waistband in favor of a semi-auto shotgun that had been hung up above a cot in the room, while Dean, Sam and Bobby made adjustments to their own firearms in order to compliment the iron rods and pipes they'd found stashed in a cabinet. Before they exited the room, Dean placed a knife forged out of pure iron in Bela's palm and she accepted the weapon with a thankful nod before waiting anxiously as Sam and Bobby heaved the door open.

The hallway was empty and eerily quiet once the iron door of the panic room swung creakily aside and though hesitant, Dean and Bobby were the first to creep out, with Bela following close behind and Sam guarding from the rear. They paced slowly down the hallway on full alert, waiting apprehensively for one of the ghosts to pop out every time they took a single advancing step forward.

"You think they left?" Dean whispered, his tone a mixture of simultaneous doubt and hope.

The four rounded a corner, fully expecting for one of the ghosts to be waiting there after Dean's inquiry, but were glad to see that they were only met with another strip of empty corridor.

"I don't like this," Bela murmured, adjusting the heavy shotgun in her arms. "It's too quiet."

Dean quietly scoffed. "Oh, you think? Thanks, Captain Obvious."

"Quit arguing, you tw—" The younger Winchester was abruptly cut off as a sleeved arm curled around his throat and yanked him back into a cold body. It didn't take long for him to realize that Henriksen had popped up behind him and without a second thought, Sam jabbed the end of his iron pipe over his shoulder at the ghosts' head.

"You all right?" Bobby asked as he watched Sam gather his bearings.

"Yeah, thank—who the hell are they?"

The other three turned their heads down the hall as Sam indicated at a pair of two twin little girls standing under a doorway, their heads tipped in opposite directions as their glossy eyes honed in the armed group of humans.

"You left us to _die!_" One of them screamed as, in one sudden motion, they rushed forward and struck Bobby in the abdomen, sending him bending forward and gasping for air. Bela and Dean swiped at either of the twin girls with their melee weapons before watching them disappear in a hazy mist. Sam and Dean helped Bobby to his feet before the group began running down the hall and to the library.

"Bela, we'll follow you! Shoot anything that pops up along the way!"

The Englishwoman did as she was told, taking the stairs up two at a time as the three men hobbled quickly behind her. Bobby was sucking in ragged breaths through parted lips but wasn't proving to be much of a liability, especially as Meg appeared before them again only to be smacked cleanly across the face by the back of the old man's hand, an iron ring he had slipped on his finger back in the panic room causing the young woman's ghost to fade away just as quickly as she came.

As soon as the group reached the study, they scrambled to draw thick lines of salt in each doorway leading to the room, ignoring the ghosts that popped up on the other side to taunt them. Bela had just gotten done shaking out a line of salt when she stood up and was met face-to-face with her mother again, the snooty-looking woman staring down at her daughter distastefully. Bela's eyes immediately went to a raw red line running across her mother's neck and when the older woman noticed, she laughed ironically.

"Oh, this little thing?" The dead woman craned her neck to the side to provide Bela with a better view, though she wanted desperately to look away. "This is what happens when your car crashes full-speed into a pole and you go headfirst through the windshield. And don't even get me started on your poor father. The steering wheel went straight through his chest!"

Bela squeezed her eyes shut as her mother relayed this information casually, as if it was just another piece of gossip she would have probably told at a dinner party back when she was still alive. "Shut _up_!"

"Excuse me. I just thought you'd like to see how your handiwork turned out. You asked for this, after all" Bela's hands were shaking at her sides as her mother smirked down at her, her arms crossed over her chest as she relished in her daughter's fury.

"I—didn't—_know_!" Bela roared the last word after sucking in heavy, ragged breaths, reaching behind her to grab the iron knife Dean had handed her earlier and embedding it in her mother's shoulder. Although the knife only caused her mother's ghost to flicker away, Bela was still left momentarily satisfied, if not shaken up.

Bela panted heavily, tucking the knife back beneath her belt and turning around to find Dean gazing at her in half-curiosity and half-concern. She deftly ignored him—she didn't want his _pity_—and shifted her eyes to Bobby, who was currently dropping a lit match into the fireplace.

"How much longer?" she half-shouted impatiently.

The flames erupted in a small burst of orange light as the match caught on to the lighter fluid the old man had spewed inside during Bela's brief confrontation with her mother.

"We need to go gather the required supplies," Bobby hastily told her, "Sam—upstairs, linen closet; there's a red hex box. You'll know it when you see it. You think you can handle that or do you want some help?"

Sam nodded. "Red box. No, I got it."

As the younger Winchester turned and ducked out of the room in a slow sprint, Bobby turned to Dean. "You go to the kitchen. Cutlery drawer's got a false bottom. Get hemlock, opium, and wormwood. We need 'em all. Bela, since your mother's ghost seems to pose more of threat on you than anything else, you'll stay here."

Bela nodded shakily as Dean jogged past her and into the kitchen a few doors down. She could hear him rattling through drawers—and even the sound of him talking as a ghost seemingly appeared before him again—before he came sprinting back without a scratch on him and with the herbs gripped tightly in his hand.

"God damn it, where's your brother?" Bobby asked, taking the herbs from Dean and tearing them into little pieces before dropping them into the flames.

"I'll go get him," Dean said, turning and jogging up a nearby set of stairs after his younger brother, leaving Bela and Bobby alone once again.

Without anything else to say, Bela smoothed a hand through her hair and watched as Bobby stared determinedly at the fire. "How'd you know those two girls?"

The old man pressed his lips together, not bothering to look at her. "You don't see me askin' questions about mother dearest now, do ya?"

Bela tilted her head in understanding. "All right. Fair enough."

It was quiet for a little bit. They could hear some shuffling upstairs and although Bela wanted to help, she knew Bobby had been right about what he said to her only moments earlier. If she even placed one toe over that salt line, her mother would only reappear to taunt her or, worse, actually try to kill her.

Bobby let out a frustrated sigh. "They were these two girls I encountered while on a hunt. I walked right past their bedroom…didn't know they were being attacked. It was too late before I realized and came back."

Bela bowed her head in sympathy. "It's not your fault. You didn't do it intentionally."

When Bobby looked at her, his eyes were clouded with understanding. "By the way you and your mom were talking to each other, I'm guessin' you weren't exactly telling the truth to Dean when he confronted you about your deal before you went downside."

"He doesn't know the whole story, no," Bela replied curtly, cutting off the conversation with a tone that said she didn't _want_ Dean to know anyway, at least not yet. Shortly thereafter the brothers came running back into the study, the red box gripped tight in Sam's arms before he dropped it on Bobby's desk.

"Sorry it took so long. Sammy here had been overpowered by Meg by the time I got up there," Dean explained, slightly out of breath, as Bobby opened the box and grabbed whatever was inside.

"Whatever, you're here now," The old man replied, turning as all of the ghosts that had been raised for the special occasion appeared behind the salt lines. "Just fight 'em off while I take care of this!"

As Bobby began chanting, Sam, Dean and Bela readied and fired their weapons, repeating the process until their fingers started to cramp and their stockpile of salt rounds began to diminish. All the while the three ignored the taunts that were being thrown in their direction by each of the ghosts, grinding their teeth in frustration as they tirelessly fought back with salt and iron.

"Any day now, Bobby!" Dean called as he swiped at Ronald's ghostly midsection with a solid iron crowbar, the neck chipping at the wood of the doorframe as it passed what was, essentially, only air.

"…_testis perierunt!_" Bobby finished the Latin chant just as he dropped the final ingredient to the spell into the flames, causing them to erupt in a giant flare as an earthy explosion sounded through the house and disintegrated the ghosts where they stood, sending them back to either heaven or hell with cries of agony. As the house grew quiet again, all that could be heard was the soft panting of exertion coming from each person standing in the study, their bodies tense with the anticipation that the ghosts might still come back.

After a break in the salt lines and a quick round of the house proved that the ghosts were, in fact, gone, the group relocated in the living room and collapsed tiredly around Bobby's coffee table.

"They're gone…." Bela sighed, letting her shotgun fall to the ground as she ran a hand exhaustedly over her face.

Dean looked at her gravely. "At least, for now."

* * *

Night had fallen. Again, Bela couldn't sleep; hadn't been able to since before her deal ran out. Before, she was too anxious about her mortality ticking down and the hellhounds coming to seize her to so much as blink for too long, but now it was because of something entirely different. Not only was she shaken up from being confronted by her mother's ghost—after the witnesses had been dealt with and they were no longer on full alert, Bela locked herself in one of Bobby's guests rooms and cried for a good half-hour from the stress of the situation—but she was also feeling pressured by being left out of the loop by Castiel, just when she and Dean had been _so_ close to getting their long-awaited answers. And to top it all off, she had this knotting feeling in her stomach telling her that whatever reason the angel brought her back for was something far more serious than anything she could deduce on her own.

Currently, she found herself sitting alone on Bobby's porch, the shotgun she had utilized earlier perched against the wall beside her just in case anything unexpected showed up. She was dressed in a tank top and pair of pajama pants they had picked up from a Target a couple of days before they arrived at Bobby's house, and although she was glad to finally be able to sleep in something other than the clothes she had been wearing all day, she was still uncomfortable with the prospect of her mark being exposed for everyone to see.

Undeniably, it wasn't like any of the men she was rooming with didn't know about it and, of course, one of them had their own identical handprint to match, but she was still embarrassed by it, or maybe even angered by it, because it was a constant reminder of hell and how little she remembered of the place. Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep at night—which was every night—she stared at the ceiling and tried desperately to remember something, _anything_, from the five months she had spent in the pit. She thought that because she had been there slightly longer then maybe she'd be able to remember something faster than Dean, but every time she tried it was to no avail. The entire circumstance bothered her to no end and all she wanted to do was rip the mark from her shoulder and toss it to the ground. She wanted to forget that she had even been raised from death in the first place; it sure would have made her life a hell of a lot easier.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bela saw a dark silhouette of a figure step out from behind one of the many stacks of trashed cars in front of the house and she instinctively grabbed her shotgun, aiming it at whatever had decided to make a sudden appearance.

Her worries were laid to rest once the shadow raised its hands at its sides in alarm, a beer bottle shattering against the ground as they called out. "Hey, hey, it's just me!"

Bela sighed in annoyance and lowered her gun. "Dean. What the hell are you doing out here?"

The man in question stepped closer, his face becoming illuminated by one of the porch lights. "I should be asking you the same question."

Bela tipped her chin up as Dean walked over to her, hands in the pockets of the worn jacket he was wearing, and leaned against one of the support beams jutting out from the porch. "We gotta stop meeting like this."

"What do you mean?"

"I meant all angst-y, in the middle of the night."

Even though he had since stepped out from beneath the beam of light, she could tell that he was smiling down at her.

"I couldn't sleep," she murmured in explanation, "Where were you coming from, anyway?"

Dean turned and sat down in the chair beside her, letting out an exhausted sigh. "I went for a walk. Couldn't sleep either."

Bela made a humming sound but didn't say anything further, instead drawing her legs to her chest and balancing her chin on one of her kneecaps. She could feel Dean's eyes hovering over her hesitantly, as if he wanted to ask her a question but wasn't sure whether or not he should.

She already knew what he wanted to ask.

"Spit it out," Bela sighed, not bothering to look at him. "We were bound to talk about it anyway."

She could hear him part his lips in a small intake of breath before closing his mouth again in thought.

"I was…um," Dean scratched at the back of his head. "Bela, are we just going to pretend like that night never happened between us?"

This time she actually did look at him. "What?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I just—I just thought you were going to ask me about my mother, is all."

Dean let out a small breath through his nose. "I figured if you didn't tell me the truth the first time around and you didn't bring it up after we were brought back, you weren't about to start now."

"You're right. I'm not," she stated matter-of-factly, turning forward again. "And what do you want me to say, Dean? _You_ were the one that initiated it, that night."

He let out a frustrated sigh, raking his hand through his hair. "Christ, I don't know. I thought that maybe talking about it would help clear the air between us, but between you and me, we've got so many problems that I don't even know where to start!"

Dean angrily stood up from his chair, turning as he tried to calm himself down. Bela scowled at him from where she sat, slowly setting her feet down as she rose up on steady legs and narrowed her eyes at him.

"You can't possibly be blaming me for you showing up at my apartment, are you? Might I remind you that _you_ were the one who rang my doorbell—at two in the morning, I might add—bringing up something I had mentioned months ago?"

Dean shook his head. "Don't even start. _Don't_, Bela, because I told you I would leave. I told you that if the offer was gone, then I'd go, and even if I _was _the one that showed up at your apartment, _you_ were the one that kissed—"

The two were interrupted as a figure appeared on the porch between them, looking at both of them calmly yet also curiously.

"I am interrupting you."

"Yeah, you think?" Dean heatedly snapped, eyebrows drawn together as he glared at the recently arrived Castiel.

"Dean," Bela warned, as if to say, "_not_ _now,_" before turning to look at the angel. Her voice was noticeably softer than her male counterpart's when she spoke again, though she was still annoyed. "Why are you here?"

"I heard about your problem with the Witnesses," Castiel said, not seeming to realize that when you intruded on a personal conversation, the polite thing to do was to come back later. "You did an excellent job."

This statement seemed to only make Dean angrier. "You mean you knew about that and you didn't help? We could've died. Your efforts to save us would have been for nothing."

"We were confident you could handle it yourselves," Castiel replied tonelessly. "And it seems we were correct."

"Yeah, well so much for halos and fluffy wings. Seems like angels are nothing more than a bunch of holier-than-thou dicks," Dean gruffly said, scowling at the man before him with his fists clenched at his sides.

"Read the Bible," Castiel didn't seem the least bit offended. "Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier."

"Dean's right," Bela said, not bothering to look at the other human, as she was still upset with him. "Those ghosts could have killed us. It was by sheer luck that we had the appropriate spell to send them away."

The angel turned to look at her with that same, unnervingly emotionless expression of his. "We had larger concerns."

Dean let out an angry growl as he stepped forward, fist cocked back and ready to punch the angel square in the jaw as he grabbed hold of his collar similarly to when they first met. Just as quickly, Bela planted both of her hands flat against Dean's chest and heaved him away, grateful when Castiel stepped backwards to provide some space between the three of them as Dean glared at the angel over Bela's shoulder. Bela remained in front of Dean to keep him from lunging out at Castiel again, but that didn't stop her from glaring at the angel with a furious expression of her own once she turned back around.

"If we're so disposable, why go out of your way to save us, huh? If you have bigger concerns to handle, why make a quick stop in hell to pull us out only to leave us in the dark to fend blindly for ourselves?"

Bela's voice was shaky as she asked this and she was, in fact, nearly on the verge of tears, but she stood her ground and looked Castiel in the eye as the angel just stared back at her, tranquil as ever.

"I told you, when we have more time, I will—"

Bela pointed a finger in his direction. "_No._ We've done enough waiting. We want some explanation."

Castiel sighed, briefly looking down at the ground before bringing his eyes back up to meet the two humans' in front of him. "I cannot tell you as much now as I wish to; it is against my direct orders. But believe me, I want to." He gave the two of them a partially strained look, as if he was being defiant by even disclosing this much, which he probably was. "I am assuming you've made the connection between the 'Rise of the Witnesses' and the Apocalypse. You know about the Book of Revelation."

Bela and Dean both nodded in confirmation.

"You two have roles to play. _Important_ roles," As Dean and Bela opened their mouths to ask questions, Castiel held up a silencing hand and gave them an apologetic expression. "I _can't_ say any more. But I promise, you will be informed soon enough. Right now, there's the pressing matter of the Seals we need to discuss."

"The 'Seals'?" Dean asked, eyebrows drawn together.

Castiel nodded. "The 'Rising of the Witnesses' is one of the sixty-six Seals, and Lilith is trying to break them."

Bela sucked in a deep breath. "Lilith. Of course. Just when things couldn't get any worse."

"She picked victims that would directly target you four," Castiel continued, briefly gesturing at the house to indicate Sam and Bobby, who were sleeping just inside. "She has a certain sense of humor."

"Wait. We sent the ghosts back to rest," Bela said, holding up a hand. "Does that mean—?"

"No. The Seal was still broken."

"So, what does that mean? Does that let something lose?"

Castiel shook his head. "It means she's a step closer. Once all sixty-six seals are broken, he will rise."

"_Who_ will rise?"

Castiel looked between the two of them with a deeply grim expression. "Lucifer."

It was quiet for a moment as Dean and Bela stared disbelievingly at the angel, who stared back and waited patiently for them to respond.

"You've got to be _kidding_—" Dean began.

"I'm not." Despite the angel's face being constantly void of any emotion, when the two humans looked at him they could see the truth clouding around in his eyes.

"So," Bela began slowly, "Is _this_ why you brought us back? To stop the rise of the devil?"

"It's part of the reason why," Castiel bent his head in sanction, "But nothing about your situation is that simple."

Dean scoffed as he finally stepped out from behind Bela and faced the road, sighing exhaustedly. "Yeah, no need to tell us that, buddy."

When he turned back around, Castiel had disappeared again and Bela was left staring at the spot where the angel had been standing.

* * *

A couples weeks later and Bela finally departed from Bobby and the brothers, the four of them deciding that they couldn't sit around doing nothing while they waited for more Seals to be thrown their way. Sam and Dean quickly worked their way back into the hunting world as Bobby made it a point to go and check up on Pamela, leaving Bela with no choice but to finally return home to Queens once both of her other options proved to be too much for her to handle at the given moment.

She loathed hunting, though that didn't mean she lacked the skill for it, and she figured that whatever familial matters Dean and Sam needed to discuss would be best done without a third party. On the other hand, she still couldn't bring herself to face Pamela. She didn't know if the psychic blamed her, though Bela couldn't exactly judge her for it if she did, and she'd just rather let Bobby handle Pamela for the meanwhile until Bela could finally muster enough courage to go visit her. Until then, she was gonna go home and gather her own bearings for a little while.

Bela had put enough down payment on her house to guarantee that it'd be waiting for her if she ever found a way out of her deal—which, of course, she actually hadn't, at least not on her own, but the maneuver proved to be a smart one as she turned her house key in the lock to her apartment and pushed the door open, only to be greeted by the comforting, familiar smell of home.

As if on cue, her cat, Peru, came darting around a corner, stopping to weave around Bela's feet as she bent down and scooped the Siamese up in her arms. She had also paid one of her neighbors to take care of her cat, only trusting the girl to be in her apartment because Bela had made sure to put a curse on her using one of the many hex bags she had stolen if the young woman had gotten the bright idea to try and steal or snoop around the spacious condo. She was actually glad to find her neighbor still alive once she popped her head out in the hallway to say hello just as Bela was arriving and the Englishwoman made a mental note to sneak back into the girl's apartment later to steal back the hex bag she had planted in the frame of her bed.

Setting her cat down, Bela tossed her keys on a nearby end table and sighed, scratching her head tiredly as she slowly walked through her apartment and breathed in her surroundings after being gone for almost half a year. She had just stopped to admire a painting hanging up in her foyer when a sudden wave of nausea hit her, causing her to run towards the hallway bathroom and drop to her knees in front of the toilet, heaving a pungent stream of bile into the ceramic bowl as tears stung at her eyes and heat seeped into the mark on her shoulder.

Once Bela was done, she dragged the back of her head across her mouth and wearily stared at her cat, who had been watching her curiously from the rug in front of her bathroom sink.

"What the bloody hell was _that_?"

* * *

**AN: **For those who haven't read my first Dean/Bela fic, Only Hope, Bela's cat is named Peru after Vincent Peruggia, the man who stole the Mona Lisa.

Also, any thoughts on my little twist at the end? What could be wrong with Bela, I wonder?


	6. Hell of a Reunion

**AN: **Warnings for brief mention of sexual abuse. Also, this chapter is entirely original (minus the characters used, of course) and not based on one of the Season 4 episodes.

* * *

A few more weeks passed and the most she had heard from the Winchesters were from random, brief phone calls they made just to fill her in on any new information or to see how she was holding up. She mostly talked with Sam, as her and Dean still weren't on the best of terms since their argument that Castiel had interrupted, but when she did happen to speak with the elder brother their conversations were always awkward and strained.

What did Dean want her to say? She was sorry that when they came together that night, she didn't know she was still going to be alive a few months later? Did he really want to hear her tell him that sleeping with him seemed like the ideal choice to an escape at the time? They were both dying and desperate for a numbing factor, which they found in each other. If Bela forced Dean to come to terms with that matter, then things between them would only get more difficult. She definitely didn't want him to get the idea that something potentially romantic could happen between the two of them…

…did she?

Groaning in frustration, Bela rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. Beside her, Peru jumped up on the bed and purred at the back of her head, causing Bela to let out another groan. Being around the cat only made her think of the episode she had in her bathroom when she got back home—she still had no idea what the hell that was all about, but all of these things being loaded on her was just making her feel like her head was going to explode.

Bela let out a sigh and garbled into her pillow, "Peru, just shoot me."

She smiled softly when the cat simply meowed in reply.

* * *

Blinking her eyes open, Bela let out a leisurely yawn as she stretched her arms above her head. She couldn't remember the last time she had gotten such a good night's sleep. Not only had she been suffering from insomnia ever since she had been brought back from hell, but she had been having problems sleeping even before she went downside. Not that she was complaining, but why would her exhaustion choose _now_ to finally take over?

Bela shrugged. How odd.

As she sat up on her bed and took in her surroundings, Bela realized that her getting a good night's rest wasn't the only odd thing happening to her. She nearly darted out from under the covers once she noticed that the comforter currently wrapped around her legs was an ugly brown corduroy and not the lavender-colored down blanket that she had in her bedroom back home. Not only that, but she couldn't recall ever hanging up a picture of a random sunflower field above her dresser, not to mention that said dresser wasn't even _hers_….

"_Singin' hey diddle-diddle with a kitty in the middle and they swingin' like it just don't ca-a-re,_" Bela froze as the sounds of a man singing filled her ears, the voice coming from behind another door at the far end of the room. Already on full alert, Bela slid out from under the blankets and tip-toed around the edge of the room, slipping behind the door and waiting patiently for whoever was on the other side to step out.

Bela watched apprehensively as the knob turned and the door was slowly pushed open, a bunch of steam coming out along the figure with it.

"_She told me to walk this wa-a-y, talk this wa-a—_" The word was abruptly cut off at the back of the man's throat as Bela let out a frightened scream, connecting the heel of her hand sharply with the man's temple. "_Ow,_ what the f—?"

"Stay the hell away fr—wait, _Dean_?"

Bela was left gaping as the hunter in question lifted one hand up to cup the side of his head while he used the other to hold up a towel haphazardly around his waist. As evident by his damp hair and complete lack of clothing, Dean had just stepped out of the shower and clearly wasn't expecting the Englishwoman to be waiting for him just outside the door.

"Bela? What the hell are you doing here?"

She scoffed, though not before swallowing an averting her eyes from his bare chest. "Oh, like you had nothing to do with this?"

Dean scowled at her. "Are you suggesting that I kidnapped you from wherever the hell you came from and brought you back here? Tell me, Bela, for what reason would I possibly do that for?"

"I—" she was cut off as the front door to the room was opened, revealing a very tall, very exhausted-looking Sam Winchester gazing curiously at the two standing in the center of the room with a lifted eyebrow.

"Bela?"

"Did _you_ have something to do with this?" she snapped, gesturing a hand around her body to indicate her obvious displacement.

"Dean, why are you naked?"

"I just got out the shower!"

Out of nowhere, Castiel, in his standard trench coat-and-suit get-up appeared between the three of them, gazing calmly at the wall as the three humans surrounding him jumped back in surprise. "_I_ brought her here."

Dean looked at the angel confusedly. "What? Why?"

"There is a Seal here," he calmly replied, turning his head to gaze at the hunter, oblivious to—or, more probably, unabashed of—his nakedness. "You need Bela's help to stop it."

Bela was about to open her mouth to question what he had meant but was interrupted as Sam cleared his throat and nervously tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, offering his hand out to Castiel.

"I can't believe it," The younger Winchester was saying, eyes widened in astonishment. "An _actual_ angel. I'm—"

Castiel briefly looked over him, almost disdainfully, before stiffly shaking his hand. "Sam Winchester, I know. We are familiar with you." Bela and Dean exchanged quick looks—_what the hell was that all about?_—before being brought back to attention as the angel began speaking again. "We have tracked a demon—a _powerful_ demon—here to this very town. He hasn't surfaced in years; we thought he might have escaped along with Lilith when the two of you opened the Gates of Hell, but this is the first time we have gotten any sign of him since then. It's not unusual for him to be dormant, however. He likes to strike accordingly. He picks his targets carefully."

Bela thought she might've seen the angel's eyes hover fleetingly over her but she didn't pay much mind to it.

"Alright, does this demon have a name?"

Castiel nodded firmly. "Botis."

One look exchanged between Dean and Bela confirmed that the two of them didn't know the name, though the expression on Sam's face was one of recognition. "Botis, as in one of the Great Presidents and Earls of hell? _That_ Botis?"

"That is the one," Castiel confirmed expressionlessly, remaining unaffected by Sam's disbelief. "Of course, he is not as powerful and high-ranking as Lilith, but he _is_ significantly strong on his own."

"Okay, well, do you have any idea what this Botis guy might be up to? What Seal he's trying to break?" Dean asked, the towel still gripped tightly around his private area.

"Not yet," Castiel shook his head before reaching over and placing a pewter ring in Dean's hand, an angry viper's head rising menacingly from the metal. "This will help you track him. You might want to find a newspaper; it will provide you with somewhere to start."

Dean opened his mouth to ask another question but Castiel quickly disappeared into thin air, leaving the hunter scowling frustratingly as they were left with little information to work with.

"You were right," Sam scoffed, shaking his head from the doorway. "What a _dick_."

* * *

"'Woman Forgives Man Who Murdered Her Family Over Thirty Years Ago,'" Dean read the newspaper's front headline aloud to Bela and Sam, who were both sitting before him at a table in front of a local café, before moving on to read the first paragraph of the article. "'Grace Townsend, sole witness and only survivor of the massacre of her family in 1986, has forgiven the man responsible for murdering her parents and two sisters in cold blood. Edwin Mansfield, who was convicted of the murders in '88, was released from prison on parole after over thirty years and wished to restart his life, beginning with making amends with the single person he let live on that one fateful night.'"

Dean's voice faded off as he read the rest of the article silently, his eyebrows furrowing in interest as the other two in his company were left watching him expectantly.

"Well? What does it say?"

"This old lady forgave this nutjob for killing her family! Who the hell does that?" Dean scoffed, tossing the paper in Bela's direction before she scooped it up in her own hands to read it.

"It's definitely not unheard of, yet it's still odd nonetheless," She commented, briefly looking over a recent picture of the old woman and the murderer crying in what seemed to be a raw, heartfelt apology.

Sam, who had just pulled out his laptop from his bag, began reading from its screen. "That's not the only act of forgiveness being made in this town. Says here that last week a long-time rivalry between two businesses ended when the shops' owners, who were old friends, sat down and one of them finally apologized to the other for screwing them over in the past. And just a few days before that, a man and woman were married even though the groom admitted to sleeping with her sister early on in their relationship."

Bela rolled her eyes. "She forgave them, naturally. 'True love' and all that."

"Actually, she was pretty pissed about it for months. Refused to speak to them and even fell off the face of the Earth for a while; cops thought she was missing, that's why it's in the news. Turns out she went on a cruise to Jamaica to 'rediscover' herself and, in that journey, found that she still wanted to marry the guy that cheated on her."

"So, what, this Botis guy is breaking a Seal by helping people forgive one another? He sounds more like a relationship counselor than a demon."

Typing something up on his laptop, Sam began reading again. "Not much is said about Botis, but what _is_ mentioned is pretty consistent in each article about him. He's known to 'tell of all things past and future,' as well as…reconciling friends and foes."

Dean pursed his lips together in thought. "Okay, so we've most likely found the bastard. What now? Do we just wait for someone to have a falling out? And even if we _do_ manage to find the same people that Botis is targeting, how is this ring supposed to help us pick the guy out of the crowd?"

"Can I see the ring?" Bela asked, holding it between her fingers once Dean placed it wordlessly into her palm. She observed the pewter ring carefully, eyes narrowed in frustration as she tried to remember where she had seen that same viper's head jutting haggardly out of the thick band. She frowned once her eyes trailed over two sharp fangs protruding down and out of the viper's mouth, as whoever wore the ring before definitely would have had punctured themselves on the sharpened metal if they weren't careful.

Sam's voice brought Bela out of her thoughts. "I think I know where we can start looking. The local school's having a class reunion tomorrow. What better place to find friends and foes than at a high school?"

Dean nodded. "Alright, then. Looks like we're crashing a party."

* * *

Using some old contacts that hadn't been informed of her sequential death-and-resurrection, later that day Bela managed to get three more names added to the high school reunion's guest lists for her and the boys. The three of them then went back to the motel, with Bela checking out her own room to prevent another awkward incident similar to the one that occurred that morning, before they all went over their plans and finally turned in for the night.

The next day the three of them spent more of their time researching Botis before ultimately quitting in favor of getting ready for the reunion once their search turned up nothing useful. Dean had been nothing shy of irritated once he was informed that he had to wear something slightly less conspicuous than his favorite leather jacket and battered jeans, coming out of the bathroom a few minutes later dressed in a pressed, button-down shirt, dark jeans and dress shoes that Bela had secured for him in an obscenely short amount of time.

"I look like a dad," Dean complained, lifting his arms dramatically in the air before letting them slap against his sides. "I'm not going to get any chicks tonight looking like a _dad_."

Bela rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Like that dive-bar get-up you're so used to is any better. Besides, we're going to the reunion to stop a Seal, not to get you laid."

Dean gritted his teeth as Sam snickered from his spot against the wall.

"Whatever. Let's just get going."

The three prepared to leave the motel room before a nagging feeling at the back of Bela's head caused her to turn and ask, "Wait a minute. Can I have the ring?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because I don't trust you not to lose it while we're there," she replied. "What, worried I'll leave with it and sell it to the highest bidder?"

Dean stared at her, annoyed, before slipping the ring out of his pocket and into Bela's hand. "Whatever. You'd have probably just pickpocketed it from me if I said no, anyways."

Bela hummed amusedly to herself as she slipped the ring on her index finger. As suspected, the fangs scratched uncomfortably against her skin, but perhaps what was most surprising was the rush of energy that seemed to course through her and settle in her mark.

Seeing the expression on her face, Sam tilted his head and looked at her with an eyebrow raised. "You okay?"

"I…um, yeah. Just got lightheaded there for a sec," she replied, smoothing a loose strand of hair away from her face. "Let's just go and get this over with."

It didn't take them long to find the high school. For one, it seemed as if it was one of the biggest buildings the town had to offer; and for two, multiple lights and signs had been strung up on the street the school was on indicating that the reunion was happening just up the road. After parking the Impala away from where Dean judged was a "Baby-threatening" zone, the three advanced inside the school's gym before clouding around the check-in booth.

"Hello! Names, please?" A perky red-headed girl practically jumped up where she stood at the sight of Dean, making Bela's head itch annoyingly. As she registered the flirty grin Dean had plastered over his face, she pointedly shoved her away up to the front of the booth to smile sweetly down at the overly upbeat woman greeting them, nearly knocking the elder Winchester over in the process.

"Hi. Bela, Dean and Sam," she said, indicating between the three of them. The red head's smile faltered but she went to find their nametags anyway, apparently moving too slow for Bela's taste as the Englishwoman quickly picked out the tags from the table and gave another fake smile to the woman before her. "These are it. Thank you so much!"

As Bela ushered the brothers away, Dean frowned and leaned over to whisper to her. "What the hell was that all about?"

"You were wasting time," she replied coolly as they walked.

"My ass," Dean retorted, "You were jeal—"

He was abruptly cut off as Sam smacked him in the arm and indicated for the two of them to look over at something at the back of the gym. "Check out the symbol on the DJ booth. Look familiar to anyone?"

Painted cleanly on the flat of the booth was a silver and black viper's head, the eyes looming and painted blood red. When the three humans looked up the actual DJ was switching records, completely oblivious to the small group watching him.

"You think that's him? Guy looks like a douche bag," Dean commented, looking up at his brother questioningly.

"Have you ever met a demon that's not?" Sam replied, turning to his companions. "Let's split up and try to flank the guy, see if we smell any sulfur or anything. Dean and I will take either side; Bela, you go up there and pretend like you're requesting another song."

Bela nodded before they broke off in different directions, Dean heading left and Sam heading right while Bela did as she was told and cut a line straight down the middle. All the while she kept her eyes on the DJ and was briefly alarmed when he stepped down from the stage and became obscured by the booth, though her troubles were laid to rest once his head popped back up and he began messing with buttons on the record table. As Bela slowly climbed the steps leading up to the booth, she saw Sam out of the corner of her eye slipping a small bottle of holy water out of his pocket before giving her a brief, acknowledging nod.

"Hey, are you taking requests?" She smiled as the DJ looked up at her. He was a middle-aged guy with unnerving eyes, though that seemed to be the only unsettling quality about him.

The DJ bobbed his head in confirmation before laying a flirtatious grin out at her. "I'm here all night, babe."

Bela, disgusted, winced at the crudeness he was displaying but kept her cool as she watched Sam inch closer, uncapping and preparing the water bottle before him.

"That's great! I'm glad," she shouted over the music, relieved that she could finally stop conversing with the DJ once Sam pretended to trip on something and dumped half of the water bottle's contents on the suspected demon's bare arm.

"Sorry, sorry!"

"Nah, man, don't worry about it. You missed the equipment," The DJ gestured at the booth before him while Sam and Bela exchanged confused glances as the water simply rolled off of the man's skin and did nothing else. "Hey, where are you going? You never requested a song!"

As she and Sam hurried away, Bela called over her shoulder, "Oh, I've seemed to forgotten it. I'll come back later if I remember."

Dean was waiting for the two of them near a set of folded-up bleachers as they walked away from the booth with apprehensive expressions on their faces.

"Hey. Was he the guy?"

"Nah. Just a douche bag, like you said." Sam paused to push his hair away from his face. "Did you see anyone else behind the booth? An assistant, maybe?"

Dean shook his head. "Some young guy ducked out into the hallway once Bela stepped up to talk to the DJ but when I followed I only caught him making out with some cougar in a janitorial closet. They gave me a couple of weird looks when I walked in on them."

"Pervert," Bela teased, smiling at him playfully as she folded her arms across her chest. Dean didn't seem to register the comment, eyes instead fixed on the ring on her finger. "Well, where does that leave us? Maybe the viper's head was a coincidence, after all?"

Sam shrugged. "Could be. I think we would have noticed a cloud of black smoke in the air if he decided to change meat suits at the last second. We could go back to the motel; ask Castiel for help."

Bela nodded in agreement. "He _did_ dump this Seal on us, after all. The least he can do is help."

The three began to exit the gym, Bela and Dean walking side-by-side a few feet behind Sam as his incredibly long legs brought him further ahead in lengthened strides. Sam had just ducked under the front doors and outside when Dean's fingers curled around Bela's upper arm last minute and yanked her into an adjacent hallway, his body holding hers firmly against the wall as he used one of his hands to lock the door.

"Dean, what're you—?" She was brusquely cut off as Dean pressed his mouth to hers in a sloppy kiss, his painful grip around her arms only tightening as she squirmed. Once she finally managed to strangle free and push him away, the ring on her finger was throbbing with red energy as Dean stared back at her, eyes the same bloodied color.

"C'mon, Abigail, you don't recognize your daddy's touch when you feel it?"

All of the air rushed out of Bela's lungs as the words crept past Dean's lips, the demon possessing him causing him to smile hungrily back at her.

"Y—you're not my father," she trembled as she pressed the flat of her back against the wall, as if she could pass through it and into the other room. "You're not him. You're Botis. You're not—"

His body was back on hers in a flash, his hand wrapped tightly around her neck as he brought his lips dangerously close to hers again. "You're right. I'm not. I'm what was possessing him. Though, he wasn't really your father, anyway." The laugh she heard was _not_ the one she had heard come from Dean's mouth before. This one was dark, _demonic_, and it lapped at her ears like acid. "Did you know you're adopted?"

Bela struggled for words as his hand remained on her throat. "You're…lying…."

The demon smirked. "Look in my eyes and tell me I'm not," he laughed again, shaking his head. "Wait, I forgot. All you're gonna see is red."

She glared at him, fists balling at her sides as he stared smugly back.

"But no, I'm serious, you're adopted. Your _real_ parents died or something like that, then these people came in to save the day," A horror-stricken expression crossed Bela's face as he told her this, though he quickly saw it and chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, don't feel bad for getting them killed in that little deal of yours. I was only possessing your father, so all the neglecting your mother did was actually genuine. In fact, your pop wasn't even that much of a saint either. Now that I remember, he was suspected of molesting other little girls, as well—"

The demon suddenly dropped her as Sam appeared around a corner down the hall, his jaw clenched and hand outstretched in front of him as he seemed to trap his brother—no, the _demon_—in an invisible Devil's Trap. The demon struggled to turn his head to the side to smirk at Sam tauntingly despite every muscle in his body seizing up in protest.

"Ah, you're one of the _kids_, aren't you?"

Sam responded to this by pressing his hand forward in a display of force, bringing the demon to his knees.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Bela cried, seeing how strained not only his body, but also Dean's, looked with the exertion of whatever power he was using.

"I've got this!"

The demon's mouth opened in a sinister laugh but no noise came out, only a thick black cloud of smoke that shot out from Dean's body and into the ground, disappearing as if it had never came in the first place.

Bela gasped as Dean fell over, catching him in her arms and checking his pulse. When she found that he was only unconscious, she looked up at Sam alarmingly, almost too afraid to even look him in the eye.

"What the hell _was_ that, Sam? You just exorcised a demon without even uttering a word!"

"I—Bela, this isn't the time. We need to get Dean to safety—"

"He doesn't know, does he?" She bit the words out harshly, clutching Dean to her chest. "He doesn't know about what you can do."

Sam looked down at his feet. "No, he doesn't," he brought his eyes up to meet hers. "And you're not going to tell him."

"You could have _killed _him."

"I have it under control," Sam half-lied, bending down cautiously as Bela winced ever-so-slightly away from him. "If I didn't use them, the demon would have killed you and probably even taken Dean with him."

Bela was silent. Sam was right and she and Dean were both alive because of it. She couldn't argue with that.

"Let's just go, alright? We need to get Dean somewhere safe. He needs some rest."

Bela looked at him hesitantly one last time before accepting his help as she stood up, supporting Dean with one of her arms as Sam did the same on his other side. Once they got to the Impala, Bela sat in the back with Dean's head on her lap as Sam clambered behind the steering wheel.

Neither of them said another word to each other as they drove back to the hotel.

* * *

"God, did I have too much to drink last night? I feel like I've got a massive hangover and I can't remember squat," Dean held his hand to his head as he came out of the bathroom, looking at his two companions expectantly as they both failed to meet his gaze.

Sam cleared his throat. "You got possessed by Botis and we had to tie you up to a chair and exorcise you. The strain must have been too much for you."

Dean slowly nodded his head. "How the hell did that happen anyway? I mean, I didn't get this anti-possession tattoo for nothing."

Bela was still quiet, so Sam shrugged as he replied again. "Maybe it was because he wasn't a low-level demon? Like Castiel said, he was pretty powerful."

"Yeah, maybe," Dean said, scratching at his head uncomfortably. His eyes hovered briefly over Bela. "All I know is I never wanna go through that crap again."

Sam smiled, though it was faint. "Yeah, I don't envy you. I—oh, wait. I have to take this." Dean watched as his younger brother abruptly stood up and stepped outside, disappearing past the motel room's window as he answered his cell phone. Although curious, Dean was more concerned with the pressing matter of Bela.

"Hey, um…" Bela's eyes immediately darted to him as he began speaking, though he instantly wished that he hadn't. "About last night, I, uh, I lied. I do remember."

Bela paled. "You do? You remember everything?"

"Well, kind of. I think I blacked out right before the exorcise started, but I remember everything up until that point," his eyes were fixed on her firmly, yet also sympathetically, as he talked. "I know what Botis said to you about your dad."

Bela clenched her jaw as she looked away. "Oh."

"Look, I know you don't want my pity and I'm not trying to force it on you," he continued, keeping his voice calm. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for…you know, calling you a bad person for killing your parents…and all."

Dean rubbed his neck uneasily as Bela simply looked away from him, quiet. He was seriously starting to regret even bringing up the topic in the first place when she mumbled something under her breath, something he couldn't quite hear.

"What?"

"I said," she finally turned to look at him, "thank you."

A small blush crept up his neck and he looked away. "Oh, yeah. Uh…no problem."

He didn't notice it, but Bela actually smiled.

* * *

"Jesus, man! You have _got_ to stop doing that."

Dean jumped back and nearly knocked Bela over as Cas appeared out of nowhere, gazing expressionlessly back at them.

"_Dean, _language," she warned, cautious of the angel standing before her.

"Oh, please—"

Cas bowed his head. "God does not take offense," he turned to look at Dean. "Though that does not mean you should make a habit out of it."

Dean frowned. "Whatever. Did we save the Seal or what? Is it broken?"

The grim expression Cas gave the two of them caused them both to look down dejectedly.

"I am afraid not," The angel grimly informed. "In fact, it seems as if Botis' Seal had been broken months ago."

"_What_?"

"We only found out recently. That is why I did not come to see you sooner," Cas replied before either of them could lash out on him. "In fact, the Seal was broken just before Bela went to hell."

Bela drew her eyebrows together. "Is that supposed to be signifi—?"

The angel looked pointedly between Dean and Bela until realization dawned over both of them.

"Wait. No. That was done entirely on our own accord," Bela argued, looking at Cas doubtfully as she grasped that he was referring to her and Dean's encounter prior to the pit.

"Botis reconciles friends and foes," Cas pointed out, angling his head at them. "You two were significant enemies prior to me saving you from damnation. Though the fact that you are working amicably together now proves that you didn't need Botis' influence to become allies."

Dean scowled. "Why are you being so calm about this? We _broke_ a seal!"

Bela thought she might've seen Castiel look curiously in Dean's direction, as if he knew something they didn't, but then again, they were being left out of a lot of loops by the angel already.

"I regret that we could not get the two of you to work together before Botis, of course, but you are working exemplary so far. You _can_ stop the rest of them."

"So far we've managed to break one seal and failed to stop another. I wouldn't exactly call that exemplary, Cas."

"You do not give yourselves enough credit," The angel said. His eyes slid to Bela. "How are you feeling?"

Bela frowned, confused. "Why are you—?" She paused. She could feel Dean watching her curiously. "Fine. I'm fine."

Cas looked as if he didn't believe her but nodded nonetheless.

"I will meet with you again soon. There is a pressing matter you must attend to."

"Wait, what do you mean? Hey, no, don't leave yet. Tell us—"

As expected, Cas ignored them and disappeared.

"God, I _hate_ when he does that."

* * *

**AN: **What'd you guys think? Also, the song Dean is singing when he's coming out of the shower is "Walk This Way" by Aerosmith.


	7. Passing Time

**AN:** How am I doing so far? Feedback is much appreciated!

* * *

Bela sat at her kitchen's breakfast counter, flipping through an old spell tome she had stolen just for kicks a year or two before she went downside. Peru was sitting on the counter beside her, licking his paws and nudging the back of her hand with his nose every now and then to try and get her to scratch him behind the ears. Eventually Bela submitted, which was only natural when a cute little cat was sitting there in front of you purring like a machine, and she was just about to take a sip from her mug of tea when Cas appeared across from her, calm as ever. The angel's sudden appearance drew a startled scream from her, causing her to knock her tea over and send Peru scattering away from the scene with a hiss.

"You have _got_ to stop doing that," She breathed, using a shaky hand to push her hair away from her face. "If I had a gun I could have shot—"

"Standard bullets cannot harm me," Cas replied, straight faced. "How have you been faring since we last met two weeks ago?"

Bela furrowed her eyebrows. "I've been fine. Why do you keep asking?"

The brief hesitation that passed over the angel's usual composed expression should have sent Bela's senses off on overdrive but she was still reeling from Cas popping up out of nowhere and nearly giving her a heart attack to notice.

She also should have noticed that he was deftly changing the subject.

"Your encounter with Botis," he began, "the ring I gave you to help you find him. You recognized the viper's head when you first saw it."

Bela swallowed hesitantly. "I couldn't exactly put my finger on it at first," she answered with a nod of her head. "It wasn't until Botis cornered me and told me about his…_connection_ to my father that I remembered. I saw that viper's head on a crest in my father's study when I was little girl." She paused again. "But you _knew_ that, didn't you? The ring wouldn't have been much help at all otherwise."

Cas bowed his head. "The ring glows in Botis' presence but…yes, I knew. You needed to know the truth."

She frowned angrily at him. "You couldn't have just told me, Cas?"

"It was not guaranteed you would believe me."

"I've got to trust somebody in this screwed up situation of mine," she fumbled with an invisible piece of lint on her shirt, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "But you're right. I probably wouldn't have."

Cas nodded before growing solemn. "We must talk."

"We're talking right now."

"You saw what Sam Winchester did to Botis. You witnessed him exorcise that demon."

Bela blinked wearily before bowing her head in acknowledgement. "Yes. I…I did."

"Do you know about the demon blood?"

"Back when we were dealing with the witnesses, that girl Meg mentioned something but I forgot to ask afterwards," she replied. "Dean doesn't know about what Sam can do. He doesn't remember anything from the night he was possessed."

"Dean knows about his brother's powers, he just doesn't know the extent of them. He thinks they're dormant."

"Well, he deserves to know—"

Cas gave her a grim look. "He has to find out on his own."

"_What_?"

"It is for the same reason I did not tell you about Botis and your adoptive father's connection. Telling Dean will only make him angrier than if he discovered it himself."

"But if he finds out that I knew all along—" she stopped herself. Arguing with the angel would only get her nowhere and although he was telling her to betray Dean's trust, a small part of where he was coming from was true. "Fine. But Dean _will_ find out eventually; and not just about Sam's powers, but also about you and I knowing, as well."

He nodded. "Thank you for understanding. You still trust me, even after I have not told you everything about my orders to bring you and Dean back."

Bela looked down. "Well, it's like I said. Who better to trust than an angel?"

When she looked up, Cas smiled sympathetically at her before fading away as if he was never there in the first place.

* * *

After making sure his brother was finally asleep, Sam slipped out of their shared motel room before conspicuously ducking into a darkened alleyway across the street. He hadn't been waiting long when she appeared at the far end of the alley, dressed head-to-toe in dark denim and leather.

"I was starting to think you quit cold turkey," she smirked as she approached, her face becoming illuminated by a dim light overhead.

"I need some more, Ruby," Sam said, running a hand anxiously through his hair. "I had to use all the power I had left on my brother."

A stricken expression crossed over the female demon's features. "What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"He got possessed. I had no other option but to. I could have—"

"—killed him, is what you could have done," Ruby finished, looking at the younger Winchester alarmingly. "What were you thinking?"

"I had no _choice_!"

Ruby, regaining her composure, wiped her palms on the thighs of her jeans. "Okay. I'll refill your supply, but Sam…you _have_ to be careful. If you push yourself too far, there's no telling what can happen to you."

Sam nodded in understanding, though he was growing increasingly impatient as he watched Ruby roll up her shirt sleeve tantalizingly slow. She hadn't even finished cutting a line across her arm with a sharpened knife when Sam yanked her wrist to his face and sucked up the initial stain of dark blood that had welted there on the skin. Ruby grinned down at him in satisfaction as his lips scraped against her skin, sucking up the blood for a few seconds before she had to yank him off so she could fill up the silver flask he had tucked away in his jacket's inner pocket.

When Sam quietly shut the door to their motel room behind him forty minutes later, his brother was still right where he left him.

Little did he know that Dean had actually been sent thirty-five years in the past in the company of a certain ex-thief by a certain holy angel.

* * *

The sounds of a car honking brought Dean awake, his eyes snapping open as an older modeled car zoomed past him on a small street. He didn't have enough time to react to his new surroundings before he noticed a body lying face-down on top of him, and although he did note that their—_her_, he could definitely tell it was a woman—hair smelt pretty damn good, he immediately went upright and alarmingly tried to help the girl off of him.

Only when he tried to brace his hands on her to lift her up, she jolted awake and away from his touch, leading to his palm coming into full-on contact with her right breast.

"Hey, watch it, pervert!"

"Crap, I'm sorry. I didn't—oh, Christ, of course. It's you."

Bela glared at Dean as she sat up and scooted off his lap. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, who else would have been teleported to me other than you? Why can't Cas just tell us to meet each other like a _norm_—?"

He was cut off as Bela nudged him with her elbow, indicating a police officer approaching them curiously from behind. When they both gave him stiffly polite smiles, the cop nodded his head in response and kept walking by, though he did shoot them one last suspicious glance over his shoulder as he passed.

"Okay, where the hell are we?"

"And why are we sitting at a bus stop?"

Dean groaned frustratingly. "Jesus Christ."

"Dean—"

"What? Cas said God doesn't take offense—"

"No, I mean, look. There's a diner. We might be able to figure out where we are starting there."

"Oh. Right," Dean nodded before standing up and following Bela across the street. She gave him a curious look as he held the restaurant's door open for her though he ignored it as they stepped inside and took two seats at the breakfast counter next to a guy who couldn't have been a few years younger than Bela.

Dean smiled awkwardly in greeting. "Hey, man."

The young guy nodded stiffly, pressing his lips in a flat line as he returned his attention to a newspaper he had in his hand.

"This might sound weird but, where are we?"

The man looked at the two of them disbelievingly, though he answered anyway. "Jay Bird's Diner."

Dean laughed uneasily. "Yeah, thanks, but I meant city and state."

Bela rolled her eyes at Dean as the man before them lifted a confused eyebrow. "Lawrence, Kansas?"

Dean's ears twitched at the name—_where had Bela heard it before?_—as the man looked the two over curiously. "Are you two okay?"

Before Dean could scramble together an answer, Bela leaned forward and smiled. "Rough night. You know how it goes."

The man smiled in understanding. "Sure," he turned and gestured at a waiter standing behind the diner's counter. "Hey Mike, can I get two coffees over here?"

As the waiter nodded in response, a familiar smile on his face as the young man spoke to him, Dean pulled out his cell phone from his jeans pocket and began fumbling with the device impatiently. "Hey, you know where I can get some reception on this thing?"

This time the man looked at them as if they were dressed up as two clowns. "The _USS Enterprise_?"

Dean laughed nervously as he put his phone away. It wasn't until then that Bela looked up at the other people frequenting the diner, her eyebrows coming together in confusion as she noted the out-of-date attire everyone was donning. Dean was just about to ask the man another question when he noticed the date on the newspaper he was holding, his jaw nearly dropping as he read the printed words just beneath the paper's title.

The date was _nineteen seventy-three_? He and Bela had been sent nearly forty years into the past by what he hoped and most likely was Castiel, though who knew with everything else that was going on in their lives?

Bela seemed to draw the same conclusion as her jaw was already dropped in astonishment once Dean turned to look at her. He was just going to suggest that they get out of the restaurant when an older man who had just entered called out,

"Hey, Winchester!"

Bela watched as Dean and the man sitting next to him both looked up instinctively. What was more surprising, though, was how the newly arrival ignored Dean entirely and instead shook the man's hand beside him, smiling broadly as they struck up a brief conversation.

"Hey, Mr. D," The young man greeted, smiling shyly as 'Mr. D' seemed to praise him.

"Heard you were back, Corporal."

The first man nodded his head. "A couple months now."

Before the older guy moved on, he clapped his younger companion warmly on the shoulder and shook his hand one last time. "It's good to have you back, John."

_That's_ where Bela had heard the town's name from. Back when she was researching the rabbit's foot, the name had popped up once or twice in some files she had dug up. It was the birth place of the man who she was attempting to steal from…

…John Winchester.

Bela bent her head forward to whisper to her fellow time-traveler. "Is that…?"

Dean was at a loss for words as the man, his _father_, next to him returned to his breakfast. "It seems so."

John must have felt Dean staring at the side of his head because he turned to look suspiciously at the man whom he had no clue was actually his son. "Do we know each other or something, buddy?"

"No, no, sorry," Dean shook his head, preparing to leave. "Like she said, 'rough night.'"

He backed out of the diner so fast that Bela had trouble keeping up with him, especially as he walked hastily down the sidewalk and past a small alleyway. In fact, Bela almost collided into him as he abruptly stopped, turning his head quickly to the side before retracing his steps and finding Castiel waiting at the alley's opening for the two of them.

"What the hell is this?" Dean snapped, gesturing his hand in the direction of the diner, where his father was probably thinking about his odd encounter with the out-of-place couple.

"Lawrence, Kansas. Nineteen seventy-three."

Bela gaped. "Wait, so this is real? That was _actually_ John Winchester back there?"

The angel nodded in affirmation. "You two are in the past."

"Why the hell would you send us back here?" Dean questioned.

"You must stop it, Dean."

Bela ran a hand through her hair. "If _he's_ the one that needs to stop it, whatever 'it' is, could you just send me back? I'd much rather be home catching up on some sleep than helping Dean stare at his youthful father from afar."

"You are going to help him. You were the only one who could accompany him."

The hunter looked impatiently at the man standing before him. "Why not Sam? I'm pretty sure he'd like to see this, too."

Bela shot an apprehensive look in Cas' direction as he replied, "We did not want your brother in on this."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That is not important," Cas continued, raising up a silencing hand. "What matters is what will happen in the next few days if you do not act fast. You have to stop it."

A car honking behind them briefly brought Bela and Dean's attention away from the angel and when they turned back, he was already gone.

"You know, I'm getting really friggin' tired of him running away from us," Dean angrily snapped, turning his head up to speak to some invisible being. "What, are you allergic to straight answers, you son of a bitch?"

Bela watched as the man in front of her swung his arms about dramatically before something across the street caught his eye, causing him to dart quickly across the road. The Englishwoman was left scrambling after him exasperatingly as he practically ran into a small car dealership, his eyes sliding between his father, who had since left Jay Bird's Diner and was now talking to a car salesman, and a familiar black muscle car parked in the corner of the lot.

Bela rolled her eyes. "For heaven's _sake_, Dean."

"I'm doing what Cas said," the man in question replied, tearing his eyes away from the Chevy Impala to look determinedly back at his father. "I'm stopping my dad from making the biggest mistake of his life."

"I'm pretty sure he didn't mean influencing your dad on what vehicle to buy—" she stopped talking as Dean ignored her and strolled over to John, a broad grin on his face as he gestured over to the Impala and began pitching a sale right then and there.

* * *

Dean and Bela left the car lot an hour later after the former successfully managed to convince his father to buy the Impala instead of a cheesy-looking Volkswagen bus, spending the rest of their day tailing the youthful John as he went about his business, seemingly oblivious to the two people following him around. At one point, John nearly crashed headfirst into an oncoming car that had ran a red light, causing the car that Dean and Bela were driving in to swerve erratically as Dean let out a frightened shout and almost had a heart attack behind the steering wheel. He was left gasping for breath as Bela watched him incredulously, shaking her head in disbelief as Dean cleared his throat and continued driving, pretending as if the episode didn't happen as they continued following John Winchester to his next destination.

By around five p.m., although exhausted, the two tailed John to a modest-looking house where he parked outside and waited patiently until a young, attractive blonde woman came jogging out of the quaint home, engulfing the young man in a loving hug.

Bela lifted a curious eyebrow. "Who's that?"

"I think that's my mom."

She noticed the slightly excited look Dean had on his face at the sight of his parents together again, the two of them happy and, well, _alive._ She observed the couple herself, feeling a slight tug in her gut as she watched them share an innocent kiss. The two were obviously smitten with each other.

"She's beautiful," Bela commented, watching as the young Mary smiled as her boyfriend gestured towards his new car.

Dean let out a melancholic breath. "Yeah."

They didn't start the car again until after John and Mary entered the Impala, pulling away from the home and disappearing behind a corner down the road. Dean and Bela shadowed them all the way into the city, stopping a few blocks behind their targets before getting out and walking to the burger joint Dean's parents had recently entered.

He and Bela stood in the alleyway beside the eatery, watching through a small window as Mary and John enjoyed their date, drinking milkshakes and sharing a basket of fries as they talked and laughed, seemingly oblivious to everyone around them except each other. Bela usually rolled her eyes at the prospect of true love, but as she saw Dean's parents interact as if nothing else in the world mattered except the two of them, she was starting to feel a little envious.

She turned to look up at Dean, who had a small smile on his lips. "Hey. You okay?"

Dean coughed, the smile disappearing as he briefly looked to acknowledge her. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "It's just…I'm assuming you've never seen your parents like this. You know…so in love."

"My dad loved my mom more than anything. Even growing up, that much was obvious," he replied, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. "But yeah, I guess it's kind of weird seeing him act so…carefree. It's refreshing."

Bela smiled. "They're a cute couple."

"Yeah. Sammy would've liked to see them like this. You know, he doesn't remember much about mom…" he cleared his throat. Things were getting a little too personal for his taste and besides; they had a job to do. "Uh, anyway, we need to figure out what it is Cas wants us to stop. We've got to keep an eye on them until—"

"Until what?"

Bela jumped in surprise as Mary appeared behind Dean, swinging her arm at his head without so much as a blink as her son ducked beneath it at the last second. He held up a hand to try and explain that they were no threat but before he could Mary connected her knee straight to his abdomen, sending him bending forward and gasping for breath.

Thinking fast, Bela caught Mary's wrist as she prepared to hold her arm against Dean's throat, looking the young woman square in the eye. Bela was about to pull the woman off of her son when she noticed a silver bracelet dangling from her wrist, a charm closely resembling a Devil's Trap hanging from the band.

"Hey, wait," Bela said, taking her hands off of Mary and instead raising them at her sides. "We're with you. We're hunters."

Mary looked at her hesitantly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Bela's eyes flashed to Dean, who lifted a hand to yank down the neck of his shirt, revealing his own anti-possession tattoo beneath his clavicle. "You sure about that?"

After a few seconds, Mary gritted her teeth and stepped away from Dean, panting softly with the exertion of her brief scuffle. "Why are you here? You've been following us ever since we left my house."

Although surprised at the discovery that his _mom_ was a hunter, Dean cleared his throat and forced himself to look her in the eye. "We were on a hunt; thought the bastard we were after was gonna attack your, uh…your _boyfriend_ over there next."

"You think it was coming after John?" The look of panic that passed over Mary's face was disheartening, though it seemed what Dean had told her had momentarily earned them her trust. "O…okay. If this thing is threatening him, then I want to help. After we leave here, follow us back to my house. I'll introduce you to my parents. They're hunters, too."

Dean looked apprehensively at Bela—he didn't know whether to be excited or nervous that he was going to be meeting his grandparents for the first time, especially with the odd circumstances the two of them were under already.

* * *

Mary's maiden name was Campbell, Bela soon discovered, and she couldn't have been older than twenty.

The notion was off-putting. She was so young and already so…hunter-like, though the Englishwoman immediately knew that she wasn't contempt with the life. In fact, as they stepped inside the Campbells' home fifteen minutes later, Bela instantly knew why: Mary's father watched the two time-travelers suspiciously the entire time they were being introduced to the family, his paranoia evident, expression indifferent and very much how Bela pictured John Winchester to be in his later years.

How ironic.

"So, you're hunters?" Mary's father, Samuel—Bela and Dean had exchanged curious glances at this—asked his guests shortly after their arrival, though his attention was mostly focused on a book he had in front of him. "Well, tell me something then. You kill vampires with wooden stakes or silver?"

"Neither," Dean smiled confidently, "You cut their heads off."

Samuel sniffed at the correct answer, though he didn't seem the least bit satisfied.

Bela lifted an eyebrow. "So, did we past your test?"

"Yep," the older man replied before abruptly closing his book to look at the two of them with a flat expression. "Now get out of my house."

"_Dad_," Mary chastised, glaring at him despite the fact that he _was_, after all, her father.

"Bela and Dean, was it?" Samuel asked before the two in question nodded in confirmation. "Don't take it personal, but I don't trust other hunters. Don't want their help, don't need their help. Don't want them around my family."

"Knock it off, Samuel," Bela and Dean both turned in the direction of the new voice, revealing a middle-aged woman who closely resembled Mary, though her blonde hair was cut shorter and worn straight. "They're staying."

"They're _hunters_." Samuel's argument was apparently deemed void by his wife as she held up a silencing hand, which he immediately obliged to.

"They're hunters, yes, and they're also staying for dinner," The woman pointedly added, giving her husband a look that said not to argue any further. "Are you two hungry?"

Dean, never being one to turn down a free meal, smiled. "Starving."

"Good," she smiled back. Bela noticed that her own beam looked just like Dean's. "You've met my husband; I'm Deanna. Is pot roast okay?"

Bela stifled a laugh at the realization that Dean's namesake was a _woman_, though she quickly hid it by grabbing the glass of water Mary had fetched for her and taking a sip.

Dean shot a look in Bela's direction before smiling back at his grandmother. "That's more than okay. Sounds delicious."

After dinner, which Bela and Dean hungrily scarfed down, the family remained gathered around the table to further question their guests' and their sudden appearance in Lawrence. The two of them told the Campbells of their fabricated story of their hunt leading them to shadow John, though they quickly calmed Mary down by telling her that they now believed it to be a false alarm. The notion made Samuel scoff in half-amusement, half-disbelief.

"What was that for?" Mary frowned, though the expression on her face told Bela that it was a question she already knew the answer to.

"Nothin', I didn't say nothin'," Samuel raised his hands in surrender. "John's a…he's a great guy. A nice…civilian."

"What, because being in a relationship with a hunter is all the better?" Mary argued, earning a sharp look from her mother that caused her to glance apologetically in Bela and Dean's direction. "Oh, I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

Dean's eyes widened in alarm as he realized what his mother was implying. "Me and—? N—no, um, I—"

Bela nudged him under the table, signaling for him to stop talking, before smiling softly at Mary. "It's okay. I know how hard it is to be around other hunters, let alone to be…um…_dating_ one."

Mary smiled at her gratefully.

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, uh, Samuel. You working a job?"

"Might be," his grandfather vaguely answered, taking a drink of whiskey.

"He's working a job on the Whitshire Farm," Mary supplied, ignoring the glare her father shot in her direction.

Samuel sighed, deciding that there wasn't a point in keeping anything else from his guests now that it was all out on the table. "Tom Whitshire's a local farmer a couple towns over. Got tangled up in his combine harvester."

Bela winced at the mental image, though Dean seemed to be more skeptical. "And that's a case? Seems like a normal accident to me."

"Except why was he on the combine when all his crops are dead?"

"That's worth investigating," Bela noted. "Were there any signs of demons at the site?"

Samuel looked at her. "That's what I'm going to find out."

The group continued to talk a while longer. Dean tried to propose that he and Bela work with Samuel on the hunt, though they were quickly rebuffed as the older man deftly reminded them that they worked alone. Bela and Dean left the house not long after that, the latter uncharacteristically silent the entire car ride to their motel.

Bela looked at him suspiciously from the passenger's seat. "What're you thinking about?"

"What?" Dean didn't look at her. "Nothing."

She sighed. "Dean, I've known you long enough to be able to tell when you're lying. Not only that, but you're a terrible liar. You've got a plan forming in that daft head of yours."

He didn't react to her obvious jab. "I've got a bad feeling about this Whitshire thing. I've heard the name before—in my dad's journal. He recorded a lot of things in there, but there was one thing he kept track of the most. I think _that's _what we need to stop here."

Bela looked at him curiously. "And what's that?"

"The demon that killed my mother."

* * *

**AN:** Sorry for the lack of originality, but I incorporated this chapter because what I have planned next ties in with it and it's _very_ important.


	8. Child of Light

"Alright, we're here. Looks like my mom and grandpa haven't showed up yet. Either that or we've just missed them."

Dean had pulled their stolen car up just in front of a spacious house located along the outskirts of a large strip of property, his eyes narrowed as he quickly scoped the home out for any signs of oddity. Everything was normal, it seemed, minus the fact that the paternal head of the house had only recently been cleaned out of the combine harvester and cremated to a fine dust, where he was now probably sitting in a nice, shiny urn perched above the home's fireplace. Dean made a move to open the door but stopped as soon as he placed one shined loafer on the ground, turning to point a finger at Bela in the passenger's seat.

"Don't move," he ordered, causing her to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "I mean it, Bela. Stay here."

The woman in question rolled her eyes, taking in the black church get-up the hunter before her was currently donning. "Whatever you say, Father Winchester."

He glared at her before clambering out the car, pointedly slamming the door shut behind him as he followed the narrow pathway up to the Whitshire family's home and waiting patiently as a middle-aged woman with puffy eyes opened the door to greet him. Bela could imagine him now, starting out by introducing himself as a member of the church before offering the woman his condolences for her loss. Truly, Dean and Sam's usual tactics they used to get information on their hunts were so generic that Bela could recite them without much effort, though she had to admit that they worked more or less. She would never tell the brothers that to their faces, however.

She let out an impatient sigh as she hung her hand outside of her window and drummed her fingers against the car door, turning her head to gaze out at the fields surrounding the Whitshire house through the driver's side window. She could just make out a line of yellow tape surrounding a patch of the field and her stomach turned in discomfort, realizing that that was where Tom Whitshire had met his demise. Of course, she didn't know the type of man the late farmer had been; for all she knew he could have been a complete son of a bitch, but the fact that a seemingly normal family had been targeted by a demon was something she could relate to. Botis had gone after _hers_ after all.

That was different. She knew it was different. Not that Bela made it a habit to trust demons, but something within her told her that everything Botis said about her parents was correct. If her mother truly wasn't possessed, that meant she knew about all of the abuse and hadn't bothered to do anything about it. And a part of Bela believed the red-eyed demon when he told her that she hadn't been the first girl her father had touched, even though he didn't—_technically_ didn't have any control over his body at the time of Bela's own abuse….

"I wish I could say I'm surprised to see you here," Bela jumped in her seat before she turned to see Mary Campbell smiling warmly down at her from outside the passenger's window. She ran a hand shakily through her hair as she gathered her bearings, quickly screwing a smile of her own on her mouth as Mary poorly attempted to hide her amusement at the Englishwoman's obvious discomposure. "My father will sure be happy once he gets inside the house and sees Dean there talking to Mrs. Whitshire."

Bela, having since recovered from the scare, lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Yeah, well, you know…."

Mary chuckled. "Oh, don't worry about it. I could tell by the looks on your faces last night that you weren't about to let this go. In fact, I'm glad you're here. My father may not let it show, but we need the help."

The blonde woman stepped back, allowing Bela to open the door and step out the car. Bela furrowed her eyebrows at the last statement. "What do you mean?"

"My dad's been tracking this demon for a few weeks now. The demon's been focusing mainly in or around the county; we can't seem to catch a break," Mary shrugged. "Maybe you and Dean are the help we're in need of."

Bela chewed her lip. "Yeah, I suppose," she was glad to see a teenage boy walking out of the Whitshire home and toward a large tree, giving her a reason to change the subject. She motioned at him to Mary. "Shall we?"

The young woman nodded before they started to approach him, his stance shifting nervously as he noticed two evidently attractive women walking towards him.

Mary smiled at the boy, who couldn't have been more than a couple of years younger than her. "Hey, there. What's your name?"

The kid hesitated to answer. "Uh, Jason," he anxiously swallowed as he mustered the courage to look the two women in the eye. "You're with the church, too?"

Mary looked curiously at Bela, who simply nodded in Jason's direction. "That's right. We're volunteers."

"So, you're here to talk to me about my father, as well?" He looked down uncertainly at the ground, his voice falling flat.

"Is that okay?" Mary gave him a kind look. Bela couldn't tell if the sympathy on her face was genuine or an act, though she had a feeling it was the former.

Although the kid nodded in response, Bela could tell that he was scared to talk. Not of _them_, per se, but of something else. "What was your dad like? You know, before?"

A brief angered expression crossed the kid's face, though it was gone as quickly as it came. "H-he was nice. He was a…a good dad."

Mary's eyebrows furrowed sensitively as she caught the lie. "Is that so?"

It wasn't harsh, maybe a tad forward, but Mary seemed like the kind of girl that anyone would have had trouble lying to. Bela could see a lot of Sam's patient, yet also compassionate behavior in her, though she looked more like her elder son than anything.

Jason swallowed. "N…no," he relented, beginning to scowl. "He…he used to beat me and my mom. He was an alcoholic."

"Do you think that's how his accident happened?" Bela asked, "You think he was operating the machinery while drunk?"

It would have been the most logical explanation in a normal circumstance, so Bela was fully expecting the kid to nod in agreement. When he chewed his lip timidly and shook his head instead, she raised her eyebrows in interest.

"What makes you think that?"

Jason fidgeted with his fingers. The boy was spooked. "A few days before it happened, a guy came to talk to me about my dad on my way home from school. He was weird…I'd never seen him before, but he seemed to know a lot about us." The more he talked, the more relaxed he grew; he started to trust the two women. "I thought he was a bible thumper like you guys, trying to get me to talk to someone in the church about the beatings."

"What'd he say?" Mary frowned at the prospect of a stranger becoming entangled in all of this, though she was probably most intrigued by the likeliness that the "bible-thumper" was the demon they were after.

"He asked if I wanted the beatings to stop. Of course I did, but I thought he was nuts. At one point, I thought his eyes might've even been yellow, but I…" Jason looked away, suddenly scared again. "My dad's dead now. I didn't believe the guy, but I went with him anyway. Am I…am I in trouble? Am I gonna go to jail?"

Bela immediately shook her head, looking at the kid sympathetically. It was odd for her; usually she _hated_ dealing with the emotion. It was just easier to relate to the kid. They both had daddy-demon issues, after all.

"No, you're not, Jason," she said, tentatively reaching out to squeeze his arm. He tensed at first, before slowly easing into the gesture. "It wasn't your fault, okay?"

As Jason nodded, Mary smiled at him in finality. "Thank you for your time," As the two of them turned and started walking back to the car, she bent her head towards the Englishwoman. "You're really good with kids."

Bela quietly scoffed. "'Kids'? You're not even three years older than him."

A small, almost sad smile crossed the young blonde's face. "Maybe…but when you're raised in a hunting household, you grow up fast."

Bela's eyes slid over to Dean as he stepped out of the Whitshire home, his grandfather quickly in tow.

"Yeah," she breathed, "I know what you mean."

* * *

On the car ride back to the Campbells' home, which Samuel had invited them to once he realized that they weren't going to relent on the hunt, Bela informed Dean of her and Mary's talk with the victim's son. She covered everything Jason had told them, from the beatings to the stranger, and was pretty sure that nothing she said had really stuck out to her companion until he broke the silence a few seconds later.

"What'd the kid say he looked like?"

Bela shrugged. "Didn't say much. Said he thought he was from the church too," she glanced away before remembering another detail, one that was way more important than she realized at the time. "He also mentioned that he thought the guy had yellow eyes, but—"

"Yellow eyes?" Dean suddenly asked, eyebrows furrowing at the road. "You sure?"

"Yes," she replied, "does that mean something?"

"It means I was right about the demon's identity," Dean said. "It's him. It's yellow-eyes."

Bela frowned. "You said he was the one that"—She swallowed. Speaking so straightforwardly about Mary was harder now that she had kind of gotten to know the woman—"killed your mother?"

Dean nodded, gritting his teeth in rage. "Azazel, that son of a bitch. I'm gonna end him before he even gets the chance."

"Dean—"

"You don't _get_ it, Bela, do you?" His voice was harsh, angry, and it made her jump in surprise. "Cas sent us back here to stop him before he can kill my mother. This is my chance to save my entire family. If you had this opportunity, wouldn't you—?"

He stopped before he could get the words out, though Bela fell silent nonetheless. She didn't _have_ any family, at least not anymore, and she was pretty sure she wouldn't bring her parents back even if she was given the chance to do so.

"I…I'm sorry," Dean let out a sigh, his hand gripped tight around the steering wheel.

Bela turned her head in the opposite direction so that he wouldn't see the tears welling in her eyes. "It's fine."

He knew it wasn't, but he also knew she didn't want to talk about that particular subject either.

"This is the only chance I have, Bela," he continued, his voice softer, after a few seconds, "To save my mom. To save my dad. To give Sam the life he wants, the life he deserves. To be _normal_."

Bela sniffed, though she tried to make it sound like it was because she was unaffected rather than because she was crying. She crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest and refused to look in his direction.

"I understand. Do whatever you want, Dean."

He opened his mouth to respond but closed it quickly after, instead gazing at her with a strained expression as she stared out the window. He knew she understood, he really did, but he also knew that she wasn't fine with it. After all, if he actually killed Azazel, then that meant there would never be a reason for his dad to train his sons as hunters, which in turn also meant there would never be a reason for Dean and Bela to meet.

The thought made him uneasy—_why did it make him uncomfortable?_—but this was his _family_ they were talking about. This was his chance—his _one_ chance—and he was going to take it. Bela would never forgive him, but he wanted to be happy, and it wasn't like he _needed_ her to be just that, after all.

…did he?

* * *

Bela flinched ever-so-slightly as Dean slammed a map down on the Campbells' dining table, rattling the glass fixtures in the china cabinet behind him with the force. Samuel didn't seem the least bit concerned with his home's furnishings, instead focusing his eyes calmly on the man who he had no idea was actually his grandson.

"Look. Why don't we just calm down and talk this through?"

Dean looked at the man, his tone even. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Oh, I'd say there's plenty," Samuel countered, entirely unfazed. "Starting with the fact that you're claiming there's a demon, and I've never heard of a demon with yellow eyes before."

"Yeah? Well, I have. This son of a bitch killed my parents."

Only a flicker of sympathy registered in Samuel's eyes. "Just _calm_ down, son—"

Bela briefly closed her eyes as Dean's voice came out in a frustrated shout. "No! We're all in danger. I know this bastard, and he's smart. I'd bet money that he knows we're on his tail. You need to get your family somewhere safe, fast."

Samuel's eyes flickered in Bela's direction. "And what does she have to say about this? She's been awfully quiet ever since we got back."

"She's on board," Dean gritted out after a moment's hesitation. "Look, the point is, you're not safe here. You need to leave."

"Not until we know for sure what we're dealing with," His grandfather retorted.

"Samuel's right, you two," Deanna suddenly appeared from the kitchen's doorway, carrying a couple drinking glasses and a pitcher of lemonade in her hands. She set them down before looking plainly at Dean. "We can't just get up and leave on a whim."

"This is not a _whim_," Dean sounded desperate. "He is coming. And when he does, I'm going to kill him."

Samuel scoffed, disbelieving. "You're gonna kill a demon? And how do you suppose you're gonna do that, hot shot?"

"The Colt."

The words sent a chill down Bela's spine. The last time the Colt was ever mentioned between her and Dean was when he confronted her for stealing it from the brothers. This was all before the two of them died, of course, but it was something they hadn't spoken about since Cas brought them back.

Samuel nodded. "Yeah, I know about the Colt. I used to tell it to Mary as a bedtime story."

"Well, it's real," Dean said after briefly glancing over at Bela. "Daniel Elkins, he's a hunter over in Colorado. It's in his possession."

Samuel stared at his grandson for a moment. "Fine. Say you manage to get the Colt. How're you gonna find the demon? You got some magic crystal ball that's telling you where he's gonna be?"

"Something like that," Dean replied, pulling out a beat-up brown leather journal that was a hair's length away from falling completely apart. Nevertheless, that didn't stop him from slamming it down on the table top and jabbing his finger at a recorded list inside.

"What's this?"

"My dad wrote down anyone the demon ever came into contact with," Dean replied, "This is a list of them. Who, where, when."

"Why?" Samuel asked, trying to pretend as if he wasn't as curious in the archives as he actually was.

"'Cause the more he knew about the demon, the closer he was to finding out why it killed my mom."

Samuel finally relented and stared at the journal, eyes narrowing in suspicion as something in the log caught his attention. "Whitshire farm? But that was two days ago."

"He had a psychic. That's not important. What _is_ important is where the demon's gonna be next," Dean replied, quickly covering his tracks, before sliding his index finger down the page and stopping near a name printed in blue ink. "Liddy Walsh. Haleyville."

Samuel looked him in the eye, flexing his jaw. "That's not far from here." Despite the statement, the hesitation was evidence in the older man's eyes. "Look, kid. I don't know…."

Dean opened his mouth to argue but it was Bela's voice that was heard.

"This demon has killed before and he's not about to stop now. You have a complete documentation of his past, present and future movements and a plausible reason to believe that he is going to attack someone again soon. You're _hunters_. You stop stuff like this from happening and, if you're lucky, manage to save lives at the same time. You have more than enough opportunity here to stop this guy before he kills someone else or, worse, you and your family because you now know his identity. So are you telling me you're not going to go after this bastard just because there's a slight, _slight_ chance that Dean might be wrong?"

Dean gave her a grateful look as she waited patiently for Samuel's response, though that didn't mean he wasn't deftly confused about her sudden change of mind. She had barely spoken to him in the two days since their exchange in the car from the Whitshire farm and Dean knew that she wasn't exactly happy with what he was trying to do here, so why was she backing him up now?

Bela's eyes bore in on Samuel as he stared back, thinking over her words carefully.

She did it because she wanted Dean to be happy. No, she didn't know what it was like to have parents that loved you and subsequently have them taken away, which was precisely why she was supporting Dean. It might have been selfish of him to alternate the past to benefit him in the present, but it was selfish of _her_ to want otherwise, when she knew that he was being presented with an obvious opportunity to prevent the deaths of his family.

Bela couldn't prevent Dean from saving those he loved, even if that meant saying goodbye to the man who she, she now realized, also loved.

"Alright," Samuel finally said, "I'll get my family out of here. But _only _after you get the Colt."

It was still risky, but it was the only compromise they'd be able to reach.

They left the Campbells' shortly after that, walking to their car in silence and beginning their drive to Colorado in the same manner. Bela noticed how Dean kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, though she paid him no mind as she stared stone-faced out on to the road before them.

After a while, Dean broke the silence.

"Thank you," it came out in a low murmur, but the gratitude laced with the words was evident all the same.

Bela stiffly nodded her head. "Don't worry about it."

It was quiet again. Bela didn't feel much like talking, at least not now, which was exactly why she was so annoyed when Castiel appeared behind them in the backseat. Though wordless, the two humans could feel his presence, as apparent by the low glow that flared in their marks.

"It was unavoidable. You had to do it," Cas finally said, his voice solemn.

Dean frowned. "I know it wasn't. I'm stopping him once and for all."

"I was not talking to you."

Bela closed her eyes against the tears as Dean glanced curiously in her direction, though he didn't bother asking Cas what he meant. He knew the angel was already gone.

* * *

This was something Dean needed to do alone, she knew, so that was why Bela was currently sitting with Deanna at the Campbells' kitchen table, the plate of food before her barely even touched. Deanna herself had noticed the young woman's odd behavior, her suspicions confirmed as Bela blinked at her blankly instead of answering when the middle-aged woman asked if she was okay.

"What?"

Deanna smiled softly at her guest. "It's okay to be nervous, honey."

Bela cleared her throat, briefly averting her eyes away from the other woman. "I…I don't know what you're talk—"

She sharply stopped talking as Deanna enclosed her hand over hers on the tabletop, the act entirely maternal. The older woman smiled softly at her, eyes warm and sympathetic.

God, she and Dean had the same exact eyes.

"It's alright," Deanna said soothingly, "You think I don't fret over Samuel when he's off on a hunt? No, my hair falls out and I get sick to my stomach. But you know what keeps me grounded until he comes home? It's faith. I have faith in him and what he can do. I know he's capable at his job and that's why he's still here with me; it's why he still comes home."

Bela smiled, though it was faint. "Thank you, but…" she paused, letting out a deep breath. "If he succeeds, this'll be me and Dean's last hunt. We're parting ways."

The older woman frowned in confusion. "What do you mean, sweetheart?"

Bela shook her head, looking down at her hands with a scoff. "Forget it, it's nothing."

Deanna squeezed her hand. "Whether or not Dean kills this bastard, he's not gonna leave you. I've seen the way that boy looks at you. It's the same way John looks at my Mary."

The words were sweet. They made Bela's cheeks flush and stomach flutter, but they also only made parting with Dean all the harder. She couldn't blame his grandmother, though. She didn't know what was bound to come.

So, instead, Bela squeezed her hand back and said, "Thank you."

Not long after that, the sounds of the front door being thrown open and Dean and Samuel's voices filled the two women's ears, though it was evident that Dean was distressed.

"We need to go after the bastard. I have to kill him. He's gonna—" Dean was cut off as Bela and his grandmother entered the living room, concerned expressions on both of their faces.

"What's going on?" Deanna asked, "Are you two okay? Where's Mary?"

Samuel, who seemed much calmer than his grandson, glanced over at his wife. "Yeah, yeah, she's fine. She's on a date with John. But the demon got away."

Dean looked at the other man angrily. "She's _not_ fine! He knows who she is now; knows her scent. Sooner or later, he'll come after her. He's gonna—"

Samuel, frustrated, scowled up at his grandson. "Gonna _what_, huh?"

Bela and Dean exchanged glances before he answered, his expression and voice matching in all seriousness. "Or he kills Mary. He's gonna kill your daughter."

"What? How do you know that?" Samuel asked, looking at Dean suspiciously.

"I just—Mary's my mother, okay? My name is Dean Winchester. I'm the son of Mary and _John_ Winchester. That yellow-eyed freak kills your daughter on November 2, 1983. I was four years old."

Samuel glared furiously at the man standing before him. "Get the hell out of my house."

"Samuel, stop it," Deanna scolded, turning to look between Bela and Dean. "Is this true? You're our _grandson_?"

Dean nodded in confirmation.

"Then what the hell does that make her?" Samuel asked, still angry, as he threw a hand in Bela's direction.

"I'm here to help stop the demon from killing Mary," the Englishwoman answered, "I am not your relative. We were sent back in time to stop this."

"And we may have even shortened the amount of time Mary has left by spooking the demon back there," Dean added, looking determinedly between his grandparents as they stared back in utter disbelief.

"You can't honestly expect me to believe this nonsense, can you?" Samuel replied, standing up and looking just about ready to throw Dean out the window.

"_Samuel._ Sit down and be quiet," Deanna ordered, her tone so authoritative and intimidating that Bela nearly obliged to the command herself. She instead watched as the older woman walked over to her grandson, jaw set. "I don't want to believe you, I really don't. I want to believe that you're crazy and that my baby is going to be fine. But even if I _didn't_ have a gut feeling saying that you two are telling the truth, I don't gamble with the safety of my family." She didn't even blink as she said the words, her hands positioned on her hips as she looked Dean square in the eye. "With that being said, how the hell are we supposed to find this demon?"

"Right here," Dean said, walking over to flip open the journal on the table where Samuel was sitting. "With this list."

"And with the Colt?" his grandfather asked, looking at the list with much more interest than he had earlier that day.

"With the Colt," Dean confirmed with a nod.

Samuel craned his head to look his grandson in the face. "Give it here. Let me see it."

"Sorry," Dean replied, trying desperately not to shoot a pointed look in Bela's direction. She _was_ helping him here, after all. "My hands only. I don't trust anybody else with it."

"Not even family? I'm your damn grandfather."

Dean didn't relent. "It's nothing personal."

It was here that Samuel's entire demeanor changed. He went from a stubborn, hard-assed hunter to a confident, eerily suave man in a matter seconds, and the image sent Bela's senses skyrocketing in alarm.

"Of course it is," Samuel said, smirking up at his grandson. "Especially when you're trying to kill me with it."

In a flash, Samuel stood up and pinned Dean to the wall using an invisible force from his hand, similar to how Bela witnessed Sam catch him in a Devil's Trap back at the high school. Deanna let out a startled scream before her possessed husband turned and used his other hand throw her against the wall beside Dean, sending her body crumpling to the floor.

"No!" Bela shouted, making a move to run towards the older woman but stopping in her tracks as Azazel turned his eyes on her.

"Ah-ah," he taunted, shaking a finger at her before using that same hand to try and trap her with his demon powers. He smiled smugly as Bela froze where she stood, though it soon fell as the mark on her shoulder began beaming bright with white light, the handprint evident through her shirt as she slowly moved her limbs against Azazel's control. Though she was moving, she was also in immense agony as her mark sent waves of pain flowing through her body, coupled with the pressure of Azazel's power crushing down on her. She managed to surprise the demon, sure, but she was still under his grasp and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"What little trick do you got there, huh?" The demon taunted, walking over to stare down at Bela with increased interest. "I mean, I know you've got to have friends in some pretty high places to be thrown back in time, but I have never seen anything like _that_ before…." He craned his head to the side. "Hm. It's a shame I'm gonna have to kill you."

Bela struggled to talk as the mark still pulsed beneath her clothing. "Screw…you…."

Azazel clucked his tongue. "If only we had the time, darlin'. Unfortunately, we've only enough for me to talk to your little boyfriend over there." He turned and crossed over to Dean. "So. I kill your mommy, huh? Hold on a second. If Mary's your mom, does that mean you're one of my psychic kids?"

Bela paled. She had heard a reference to the "kids" before. It was during her and Sam's confrontation with Botis; the demon knew straightaway what the younger Winchester was.

The hesitation on Dean's face was all Azazel needed. "No? Then you must have a sibling. A little sis…no, it's a _brother_, isn't it? That's great. It means it all worked out. After all, it's the only reason why I'm in this hillbilly town in the first place."

"So that's what this is all about," Dean replied, "You don't want these people's souls. You're making these deals for their _children_?"

"You're smart. You _sure_ you don't have any of my blood in your system?" If Dean had any control over his body, he probably would have spit on Azazel's shoes. "Oh, alright. I'm here to pick the perfect parents. Like Mary, for instance." He turned to menacingly look in Bela's direction. "Or perhaps her. I _like_ her."

"Don't lay a hand on her, you son of a bitch," Dean bit out as Azazel began to turn in the Englishwoman's direction, his grin broad and sinister. The demon ignored Dean as he crossed the room, staring down at Bela sprawled out on the floor. "Maybe we do have time after all, sweetheart. You make any deals lately?"

Bela shook her head quietly. She had no other energy in her body to do anything else.

The demon smiled. "You want to?"

"Why ask, huh?" Dean shouted, trying to stall for time. "Why make the deals?"

Azazel didn't bother to turn around as he answered; just kept his eyes fixed on Bela. "Because I need permission. I need to be invited, into their houses, and I know, I know, the red tape will drive you nuts. But it's all worth the wait. Because in ten years, ten _very_ short years, I'm going to stand over your sibling's crib, and I'm going to bleed into their mouth. Demon blood is better than Ovaltine, vitamins, minerals. It makes you big and strong. But you already knew that, didn't you? You've seen what your sibling can do."

Dean was silent as Azazel went through his monologue and for one reason: Deanna had regained her consciousness and was now sneaking up behind the demon with a knife she retrieved from the fireplace. Just as Azazel was turning around, Deanna lifted her arm and embedded the knife deep into his abdomen, only to be lifted weightlessly into the air by the demon's power as he chuckled devilishly and pulled the knife from his stomach.

"Oh, look what you've done," he replied, though he didn't sound angry as he took the knife and wiped it clean on the thigh of his pants. "And to think I wasn't even going to kill your husband here. But you've done and did all the work, and now he's gonna bleed out once I ditch him. Are you happy?"

Deanna made a gargling noise as Azazel seemingly used his power to cut off her air supply.

The demon's eyes flashed. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

"_No_!"

Dean let out a panicked shout as Azazel stuck the knife in his grandmother's chest, a bloody choke bubbling in her throat as the demon pulled the blade out and dropped her body carelessly on the ground. He stepped casually over the woman's body and stopped in front of Dean, bringing his eyes down to check the watch on his wrist.

"I'd love to finish what we have going on here, I really would, but it seems I'm running out of time," he said, grinning down at Dean. "But I've had fun. You three were a hell of a show."

Dean struggled against the wall as Azazel walked out the front door, teeth bared in fury. It seemed as if only a few minutes had passed before Bela's mark stopped glowing and she and Dean were released from the constraints of the demon's power.

Dean instantly ran over to his grandmother's crumpled form on the hardwood floor, pressing his fingers against her neck in search of a pulse. "She's still breathing. Her pulse is faint, but I can—"

"You have to go after Azazel," Bela said, her voice frantic. "You have to save Mary. I'll stay here with your grandmother."

"But—"

"Dean, _go,_" she looked at him determinedly, despite the tears in her eyes and break in her voice. "Before it's too late. You have to _go._"

He hesitated but it wasn't until Bela gave him a sharp look that he finally nodded and stoop up. Before he ran out the door and after Azazel, he paused to look down at her one last time. "Bela, I…I'm sorry."

She didn't say anything as he left, but she did let out a strangled sob as he started his car outside and disappeared down the street. She clutched Deanna's hand in hers while using the other to apply pressure to the wound on her chest. The older woman was using the last ounce of strength she had to squeeze Bela's hand and the notion only made her cry harder.

"He'll save Mary, I know he will," Bela said through choked sobs and gasps of breath, "He saves everyone. He's gonna stop the demon. He's gonna…."

She stopped talking as Deanna's hold on her hand ceased, the blonde woman's eyes fluttering closed as she let out a final breath.

"_No_, damn it," Bela said through clenched teeth, pressing both of her hands to the bloodied gash over Deanna's heart. "Stay with me! Deanna, stay with—"

Suddenly Bela's mark whirred to life with the same white power, though instead of intense pain, a surge of energy rushed from the handprint and into the palms of her hands, flooding over Deanna's body and making her feel weightless and translucent. The power enveloped around the women's bodies like a silk cocoon, making Bela's stomach do somersaults as she felt Deanna's chest thump beneath her hands and expand full of oxygen. She instinctively let go, startled, causing the white power to dissipate and leave just as quickly as it came.

It was quiet for a moment; then Deanna's eyes snapped open as she sucked in a deep breath.

Bela looked down at her, eyes wide as ever. "You…you're _alive_? How are you breathing? Are you oka—?"

The word died out in her throat as Deanna immediately sat up and scooted away from her, a scream escaping her mouth. "Who the hell are you? Why is there—what did you _do_ to me?"

"Deanna? No, it's me, Bela. You know who I am. I'm here with Dean, I'm here with your grandson," Bela confusedly rose up on shaky legs as Deanna put as much space between the two of them as she could.

"I don't have a grandson! Where's Samuel? Where's my daughter? What did you do to them?"

"Nothing! I didn't do anything. You were dead…I don't know how…how are you even _alive_ right now?"

Bela didn't get to hear the other woman's response as her vision faded to black around her and a familiar _tug_ pulled on her insides.

* * *

Bela sat up straight with a gasp, eyes widening as she realized she had been teleported to another place, though it was somewhere she didn't recognize. She _did_ recognize the angel in a trench coat standing before her, though, as well as Dean looking just as frantic as she felt sitting in a bed across from her.

"We need to go back!" Bela half-shouted, standing up alarmingly as she gathered her senses.

Cas seemed unaffected. "No, you don't. Dean did what had to be done."

"What're you talking about?" The hunter in question angrily asked, "I was too late. When I got there, Mary had already made her deal. I didn't stop him."

Bela paused to look at him, surprised. "What? But I thought—"

"You couldn't have stopped it," Cas cut her off before she could get out another word, seemingly _trying_ to stop her from speaking. "Destiny can't be changed, Dean. All roads lead to the same destination."

"Then why'd you send me back, huh?"

"For the truth," The angel replied, "Now you know everything we do."

Bela opened her mouth to interject again—she needed to ask about that whole thing with Deanna—but was stopped short by the sounds of Dean talking before she could say anything.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"We know about your brother, Dean," Cas answered, "We know what Azazel did to him. What we don't know is why, what his endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up. Your brother is heading down a dangerous road. He's at 425 Waterman. You must stop him, Dean, or we will."

"Wait—"

Bela was fully prepared to find Cas gone after she blinked but she instead found herself sitting on her couch in her apartment's living room, the angel standing stiffly a few feet across from her. She was starting to feel light-headed by all of the teleportation but she didn't have enough time to utter a word before Cas began talking himself.

"How are you feeling?"

Bela immediately frowned. "Why do you keep _asking_ me that? If there's something wrong with me, you better just come out and say it, because I just brought a _dead_ woman back to life back there and—"

"When was the last time you menstruated?"

The question only made Bela even madder. "W—what? Why the hell does that matter?" When Cas looked at her patiently, she relented and sighed in frustration. "I-I don't know, why? I figured my time in hell might have affected my cycle somehow…Cas, what the hell is going on?"

The angel looked at her in all seriousness. "The last time you had intercourse was with Dean, was it not?"

"Why can't you ever just get to the point?" Bela lashed out, standing up and baring her teeth furiously at the angel in front of her, trying desperately not to outright attack him.

Cas took a step towards her. "I do not think you need me to, Bela."

She was speechless, her words fumbling in her mouth, as she thought about what he was implying. No, she did not need the angel to spell it out for her, but that didn't make it any easier for her to accept it.

"N-no, I…I can't…."

Cas bowed his head in acknowledgement. "You can. Bela, you are pregnant."

Though she had been expecting him to say it, she nearly fainted nevertheless. The angel reached out to catch her at the last minute, his movement awkward and stiff as he helped her sit back down on the couch, and he waited patiently for her to gather her bearings before he started speaking again.

"It seems your encounter with Dean prior to the pit resulted in the two of you creating a child," he said, keeping his eyes trained on her just in case she actually did pass out. "The fetus developed up until you were killed by the hellhounds, where it also perished with you."

Bela let out a shaky breath. "So how isn't it dead now?"

"The most logical explanation lies within your rescue. While I brought you back and used my power to heal you, it must have also brought the child back as well, resuming the development from where it stopped before you both died. Your pregnancy was unanticipated, but given your role…it makes sense."

"What are you talking about?"

The angel didn't exactly answer the question, though she didn't notice with the revelation she was already currently dealing with.

"Your child is special," Cas continued, "This part I cannot explain, but…it seems to have developed some of my own power. Not all of it, but you saw how it saved Deanna Campbell. It brought her back to life."

"It wiped her memories of me as well, apparently. Deanna was spooked once she woke up."

"It might be a side effect, though I suspect that your child's powers will wane the more it develops," The angel replied. "We have been looking into it ever since I first discovered your pregnancy."

Bela scowled. "Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

"We wanted to make sure, but we also wanted to let you know before you realized yourself."

They were both quiet for a moment. Bela ran her fingers through her hair before burying her face in her hands.

Cas' voice was grave as he talked. "Bela, you cannot keep this child. It will put your life in danger."

She didn't look up at him as she replied. "I thought it was 'special'? Now you're asking me to abort it? If what you said earlier is true, then the baby is probably almost three months developed now. That's not even a _fetus _anymore."

When she finally looked up, Cas had already left.

Bela let out a weary breath as she asked no one, "And why would it put me in danger?"

* * *

**AN:** What'd you guys think? I'll explain further regarding Bela's pregnancy, though it mostly ties in with her designated 'role' in the Apocalypse.

Anyways, i'd much appreciate it if you reviewed your thoughts!


	9. Put a Spell On You

Not long after Cas left, Bela ran to the bathroom and threw up. It wasn't a side-effect _of_ the pregnancy, she realized after she wiped her hand across her mouth and blinked the tears from her eyes, but rather the discovery of it. How could she be _pregnant?_ Not only that, but how could she be carrying a child that seemed to have gone with her to hell and developed angelic powers along the way?

Bela sniffed as her cat came quietly into the bathroom, nudging his nose against the side of her foot in concern. She was too exhausted and confused and, frankly, kind of scared to do anything but blink back at the feline as he crawled into her lap and rubbed the top of his head against her stomach. He purred as she watched him, though he didn't seem to be very interested in her, before turning and lying in front of her belly as if he knew about and was trying to protect the baby inside.

She leaned her back against the bathtub, legs outstretched before her and cat curled up in her lap, before sliding both of her hands across her stomach. She didn't know if she could handle being pregnant at the same time as dealing with the apocalypse, but god knew she had dealt with far worse things. She never had an easy life; in fact, she knew that she probably never would, but as she curled her arms around her midsection and felt a low, soothing warmth flood into her body and especially the handprint on her shoulder, she found herself wondering what it'd be like to be a mother.

She also wondered what Dean would be like as a father.

He practically raised his younger brother and Sam seemed to come out good enough, minus the whole demon blood thing that Azazel had mentioned. It also wasn't like Dean wasn't a good guy himself when it came down to it. However, that didn't mean he would be completely on board with the fact that Bela was pregnant with his kid, and even though Castiel told her that it could put her in danger, she was pretty sure she wanted to keep it. She had done a lot of screwed up things in her life, but she didn't want aborting her baby added to the bottom of the list. No, now that she was already pregnant, there was no going back, not like she exactly wanted to, anyway. The thought of being a mother kind of calmed her—she could give this child a better life than Bela ever had herself, with or without anyone else's help.

So, screw the apocalypse. And if any of them prevented her from keeping what she knew would be a beautiful child, then Dean and Cas and her bloody "_role_" could get screwed, too.

* * *

A few hours later Bela's phone began to ring and even though she hesitated once she saw the name on the caller ID, she relented and answered the call.

"Dean," she began, trying to keep her voice from betraying her true emotions. "Are you alright?"

She had barely gotten the sentence out before he started talking.

"Sam told me, Bela." Although the statement seemed ominous, he didn't exactly sound angry. In fact, he sounded exhausted more than anything.

Nevertheless, that didn't stop the hairs from standing up on the back of her neck. "What are you talking about?"

"I went to the address Cas gave me," he responded, "I found Sam there. He's using his demon powers again. You know, the ones Azazel mentioned back in Lawrence. But you already knew that."

"Dean, wait—"

"Stop. Just…look, I'm not mad, okay?" He paused and let out a frustrated sigh. Who or what he was frustrated with, Bela wasn't sure. "Me and Sam…we've got some major problems between us right now." A quiet, ironic laughed sounded from his end of the line. "Hell, you and I aren't faring much better. I'm too tired to be mad about anything anymore. I just wanted to let you know that I wasn't angry."

No, Bela thought, but he sounded disappointed.

"Dean, I'm sorry," the words came out rushed, though he could tell she was being genuine. "I wanted to tell you, but—"

He let out a deep breath through his nose. "I know, I know. Sam and I had a talk—about what happened that night in the school's hallway…about what I found him doing at the building on Waterman."

Bela couldn't help but notice that his tone sounded a tad bitter at the last part.

She furrowed her eyebrows in concern. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Honestly, no, but there really isn't anything to talk about anyways," he replied. "You knew that he could exorcise demons without saying any words, let alone Latin, but I highly doubt you knew that he was actually doing it…consistently."

"No. I didn't."

"I figured. You would have told me if you knew the full extent of it," He briefly paused before remembering another piece of information. "Oh, and that one chick that answered the door to his motel room a few months back? Turns out she's a demon that helped us before I went downside. She claims to have a certain grudge against Lilith but…I don't know. I don't trust her."

"Seemed a bit odd when Sam forgot her name and all she did in response was correct him," Bela sighed. She wished she had been more surprised to find out that the younger Winchester was working with a demon, but it was going to take a lot to surprise her as of late. "If that happened to me I would have shot him in the knee right then and there."

Dean let out a quiet laugh. "Yeah, well, I highly doubt any guy you ever encountered would forget your name."

Bela raised an eyebrow, though she wasn't insulted. Her interest had been garnered more than anything. "Oh? And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're a damn whirlwind, Bela Talbot."

Again, she wasn't insulted. In fact, he wasn't even trying to insult her in the first place. He was, in effect, complimenting her, and if the soft blush that settled in her cheeks was any indication, he had succeeded.

They were both quiet for a few moments after that. The two of them didn't know it, but they were also both smiling.

Dean was the one to break the silence. "Hey. Where are you, anyway? You and Cas just sort of…vanished into thin air this morning."

The blush faded away from Bela's cheeks almost immediately as he asked the question, though she knew he wasn't trying to ruin the moment on purpose. He didn't know what Cas had told her, after all.

She answered in part truth. "He brought me back to my apartment. Maybe he figured that you needed to talk to your brother alone?"

"Maybe," Dean sighed, "Though I don't know what his deal is with finding a middle ground between being vague and being straightforward. It's either one or the other with him, and never at the right time."

Bela's voice was quiet. "Yeah."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied again, "Just tired; you know the drill. All of this time-traveling and teleportation seems to come with a jet lag."

Dean laughed in understanding. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean. I'll let you get some rest. Talk to you later?"

"Sure thing."

As he terminated the call, she stared at Dean's name fading away on the screen with a churning feeling in her gut. She should have told him. He deserved to know. Even though her mind was already made up concerning their child, he deserved to know that he even had one in the first place.

When she looked up, Peru was staring back at her. If it was even possible, he actually seemed to be judging his owner.

He meowed, unamused.

"What the hell do you know?" she scowled, "You're just a bloody cat."

* * *

About one week had passed when she received another call from Dean's phone, though it was not his voice she heard on the other end of the line when she answered.

"Bela? It's Sam."

She immediately dropped the book she had been reading and sat up straight on her couch. "Hey. Is everything alright? Where's your brother?"

His voice was briefly muffled as he covered the receiver with his hand and said something to another being in the room, though it was brief. "Uh, Dean's right here. He's recovering. We kind of ran into a bad hunt but Bobby and I took care of things."

Bela's shoulders slumped ever-so-slightly as relief flooded through her body. A knowing smile crossed her lips, as if Sam could see her. "Are you telling me there's such thing as a _good_ hunt?"

The younger Winchester laughed, albeit faintly. "No kidding. He caught something called 'ghost sickness.' I've never heard of anything like it before, but it's serious enough. Like I said, though; Dean's fine."

"Alright, good. I'm glad," she picked at a piece of lint on her jeans, furrowing her eyebrows. "But if you don't mind me asking, and I don't mean to sound like I don't care, but…why'd you call to tell _me_?"

Sam made a noise as if he was going to reply but hesitated, instead letting out a small puff of air. "I, uh, I don't know, actually. It just seemed…instinctive."

They both scoffed at that; only half a year ago Bela and the boys were more or less enemies. The fact that Sam now found it intuitive to call and inform her of Dean's well-being was something neither of them would get over any time soon, especially since that probably meant a part of the younger brother actually trusted her now.

"Well, thanks for that, I guess," she smiled; hoped he could tell that she was actually being genuine. "I'll see you boys around. Though, if Castiel is involved, I have a feeling that it'll be sooner rather than later."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Sam replied before letting out a final laugh and hanging up the phone.

Not even a whole week later Sam's "probably" was turned into a "definitely" as a sharp knock wrapped against the door of the Winchester brothers' current motel room, stirring the two of them awake despite the hour—it was half-past five in the morning—and pulling their weapons out just in case. Sam peeked through the looking hole in the door and let out a tired sigh.

When he opened the door, his tone sounded completely unsurprised. "Castiel?"

Bela, who seemed very wide-awake despite the current time, bowed her head in affirmation. "Castiel."

Sam didn't say a word in response, only lifted a hand to sleepily rub his eyes as he stepped back and allowed Bela inside. Dean didn't even bother turning his head, which was buried in a pillow, as he half-heartedly aimed his handgun at the brothers' new guest.

"Who is it?" He grumbled, half-awake.

Sam walked over between the two beds and turned on a lamp. "It's just Bela; you can put your gun away now."

Dean let out a protesting groan as light filled the previously darkened room and it wasn't until a few minutes later that he rolled on to his back and blinked up at the Englishwoman in half-irritation, half-confusion.

"Why are you even—oh, wait. I should thank Cas for this wake-up call, am I right?"

"He had the decency to wake me up and allow me to get ready before he teleported me this time," Bela lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "But yes, he's why I'm here. He told me to help you boys on your case-at-hand."

Dean frowned. "Why the sudden gentleness? He didn't seem to care whether you were prepared or not before."

Bela didn't answer. She knew exactly why the angel was being so careful with her; though she didn't think now would be the best time to bring that certain topic up. If Peru were there now, he'd probably be staring at her with judge-filled eyes, the damn know-it-all he was.

Thankfully, Sam spoke up before she could spit out whatever half-cocked lie she could scramble together. "The only reason he'd send you to help us was if there was a Seal involved," he scratched his head in thought before looking at his brother. "Maybe there's more to this than we thought?"

"I knew something about this case felt weirder than usual," Dean was sitting up now, though he still looked and sounded thoroughly tired. "I mean, we've dealt with some pretty freaky stuff, but puking up razorblades? That's just twisted."

Bela's face screwed up in horror. "_Razorblades_?"

"Yeah, the poor guy was just trying to enjoy some Halloween candy and next thing you know he has Edward Scissorhands trying to crawl up his throat," Dean looked as if he was going to be sick. "What a waste of candy."

"Dean," Sam shot his brother a stern look before turning his attention to Bela. "Anyway, yeah, the victim was named Luke Wallace. He swallowed four razorblades in total; the local P.D. didn't find any others in the rest of the candy."

"Sounds like the handiwork of a witch," Bela supplied.

Sam nodded. "We found a hex bag underneath the kitchen sink. Now that we know a Seal is probably involved, the complexity of the bag makes sense. The thing was entirely authentic."

Bela raised an eyebrow. "And other hex bags aren't?"

"This was different," The younger Winchester continued, "In most cases, witches use ingredients that are fairly easy to obtain, but this hex bag contained an herb that had been extinct for over two centuries, an _actual_ Celtic coin and a charred, ancient bone from a newborn baby."

Bela tried not to wrinkle her nose at the last statement, instead waiting patiently as the brothers continued to fill her in.

"Based on these ingredients, we now know that this witch is pretty powerful—at least stronger than any witch Dean and I've ever dealt with, that's for sure. Like I said, though, it all makes sense now that the possibility of a Seal being threatened is on the table."

"Do you two have any leads? Any clue who this witch might be?"

Dean was the one to answer, shortly after shaking his head. "Not a friggin' idea. We looked into this Wallace guy but nothing out of the ordinary showed up. Guy had no enemies, no mistresses; nothing. He was completely plain as bread."

Sam got up from his seat and crossed over to a table in the corner of the room, sitting down and turning on his laptop. "Well, now that we're up we might as well try to find some more leads on this witch. I'll try to dig around for anymore odd deaths in the area; they might've also been caused by this witch of ours."

Bela nodded while Dean instead let out a tired groan, falling back on the bed and holding a pillow over his face.

"I just want to go back to bed, damn it!"

* * *

"I wish I could just go back to bed," Dean grumbled quietly from behind the steering wheel of the Impala, his arm propped up on the doorframe and hand supporting his head as he tiredly drove. "Damn the seals, the apocalypse, and this witch all to hell. I'm _tired._"

Bela sighed in the passenger's seat. "Oh, get over it. We've got a bloody job to do."

"Why couldn't you just take Sam with you? I would have gladly stayed back at the motel and continued to research—"

"Dean, for one, you hate research; and for two, if your brother and I left you there you'd probably have just gone back to sleep without getting anything else done. You're like an infant; we can't leave you alone for more than five minutes."

Bela fought off a smile as she felt Dean glare at the side of her head and childishly mouth her words in a mocking manner.

"It's six p.m. now," she continued once he was finished, "you can get all the sleep you want once we check out this new crime scene."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, I highly doubt that. This is the second strange death in one week. There's no way the witch isn't behind this."

She wanted to try and disagree with him, though there'd be no point. Instead she was silent for the rest of the car ride to the suburban address that had been broadcasted on the boys' police scanner and soon enough, she and Dean were pulling the Impala up in front of a two-story home that looked completely in the norm, minus the broad strip of yellow crime scene tape that had quartered off the front yard.

Dean and Bela approached a police officer guarding the house, flashing him their counterfeit—but otherwise completely authentic-looking—FBI badges before ducking underneath the tape and venturing further into the house. The two passed by a few more officers before being directed downstairs to the house's basement, where a forensic specialist was currently snapping photographs of a young woman's body hunched over beside a small, shallow tub.

Dean got a look at the dead girl's red, blistered face and immediately attempted to hide a bothered expression, instead pulling at the collar of his dress shirt uncomfortably.

"I _hate_ witches."

His partner rolled her eyes as a young blonde girl caught her eye, though it wasn't long before Dean saw her too and an overeager expression crossed his face. Bela immediately held a hand out in front of him before he could take an advancing step towards the obviously under-aged girl, an eyebrow pointedly raised in his direction.

"Don't even think about it, _partner_," she emphasized the last word before motioning in the direction of the dead body. "You can take _that_ girl. I'll go talk to the live one."

"But I—"

"Dean, don't make me arrest you for pedophilia."

He immediately glared at her and lowered his voice. "First of all, I would never. And second of all, don't forget you're not really a federal agent. You can't _actually _arrest—"

Before he could finish, Bela walked away in the direction of the blonde girl, who was currently being talked to by a local police officer. When she looked at Dean over her shoulder, he was just making his way over to the crime scene investigator taking photos of the victim's body, though his jaw was set with irritation after being brushed off by Bela. She stifled a laugh as she neared the teenage girl and police officer; it never ceased to amaze her how easy it was to annoy Dean Winchester, and how much she enjoyed doing just that.

It seemed to take her mind off of more urgent things, such as her pregnancy and how she had since failed to tell Dean of it at every given opportunity, though she quickly pushed that thought aside as she stepped up beside the police officer and pulled out her FBI badge.

The cop, obviously a rookie, initially turned in annoyance at the disturbance but quickly cleared his throat as he realized how attractive the disturber was. Bela instantly took advantage of his brief hesitation, putting on a sleek smile and making her voice as sweet as possible without losing her authoritative edge.

"Special Agent Adler," She allowed the cop to only glance at her forged badge for a second before flipping it shut and tucking it back in her suit jacket's inner pocket. "I have a few questions for this young woman if you don't mind?"

"I—uh…sure," He looked between Bela and the blonde girl, uncertain, before swallowing and nodding his head at the two of them. "Special Agent. Ma'am."

Bela waited until he was completely out of ear shot before turning and smiling at the young woman. "Hello, I'm with the FBI. You're a friend of the victim's?"

The young girl nodded unevenly, obviously shaken-up. "I'm Tracy. Jenny and I…we were best friends."

Having since pulled out a small black notebook, Bela nodded her head and pretended to write something down. "Can you repeat to me what you were telling the officer?"

"He asked me what happened before Jenny died," Tracy sniffed and looked as if she was blinking back tears. "I told him that it was nothing out of the ordinary. We were, um…we were…drinking, but not that much. Jenny said that she was going to try and bob for apples; then all of a sudden she started to drown. She couldn't get up. It was like someone was holding her head down into the water. When Justin and I went to go help her, the water suddenly started boiling. It was weird—I had just been at the tub myself, the water wasn't hot."

"And who's Justin?"

Tracy motioned at a lanky brown-haired boy behind Bela who had just gotten done being questioned by Dean.

"One last question. Did your friend happen to know a man named Luke Wallace?"

Tracy frowned. "No, I don't think so. Um, who's Luke Wallace?"

"He died yesterday."

"I don't know who that is," Tracy replied, "Why? Do you think that he and Jenny's deaths are connected somehow?"

Behind Tracy, Dean stood up from a crouched position in front of a dirty-looking sofa and motioned for Bela's attention, jingling a hex bag identical to the one found in the Wallaces' home once she looked at him over Tracy's shoulder. In a hurry to end the uninformative conversation with the teen and head over to her partner, Bela smiled at the teen in finality.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say. Thank you, though. Your help is very much appreciated."

With that, she stepped around Tracy and made a beeline for Dean, who had already moved to a less-crowded part of the basement.

"Hey," he said, nodding a head in Tracy's direction, "what'd she say?"

"Nothing of use," Bela replied, keeping her voice quiet. "Jenny—the victim—was just going bobbing for apples before being held down into the tub and drowning. The water started boiling at some point after her friends tried to help her up. Neither of the girls knew Luke Wallace. What about you? The boy give anything beneficial?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, pretty much had the same thing to say as your girl there. I kind of got the vibe that he had a little crush on the victim, though it seemed more like a 'hormonal teenage boy' thing than anything actually serious." He paused and briefly indicated at the hex bag tucked in his suit's sleeve. "We still have _this_ bad boy, though. We should have Sammy take a look at it as soon as possible."

Bela nodded her head in agreement before the two of them left the house and climbed back into the Impala. Dean threw the hex bag between him and Bela in the front seat like it was a dead rat and by the time the two of them pulled away from the crime scene and started driving back to the motel, things were quiet.

This gave Bela plenty of chance to tell Dean about her current…_state_. She hesitated, though; kept crossing and uncrossing her legs as well as looking down at her lap and back on the street ahead of them. She fidgeted with her fingers and chewed her lip and by the time she actually worked up the nerve to finally just blurt it all out, Dean had already given her a weird look and began talking.

"What the hell's your problem? You got a rash or something?"

The statement immediately discouraged her from bringing anything up. Instead, she cleared her throat and fixed her gaze out the window. "How charming. _No,_ actually, I don't."

Dean's eyes lingered on her for a moment before he brought his attention back on the road. "Good, 'cause I don't need any ointments or whatever being left on Baby's seats."

Bela let out a small sigh. "You have nothing to worry about, Dean."

"Aw, c'mon, I was just joking," he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and noticed that she still looked tense. "Hey, are you okay?"

She clenched her jaw. "I'm fine. I'm just not feeling well. Could you roll down the windows?"

She was lying straight through her teeth—she knew it and he probably knew it, as well, though that didn't stop him from rolling all four of the windows down anyway, giving her one last doubtful glance before continuing the drive without any more questions being thrown her way. When they got back to the motel, Sam was right where they had left him, sitting at the table in front of his laptop, though his posture was significantly more hunched.

"Find anything?"

Dean pulled out the hex bag from his pocket and tossed it on the table beside his brother. "Along with that, we also found the victim's dead body. She drowned in an ice cooler-sized tub, I might add, in boiling hot water that somehow reverted back to room temperature after she died."

Sam frowned as he opened the hex bag and poured the contents on the tabletop, picking them apart before letting out a sound of approval. "It's just like I thought."

Dean looked at his brother confusedly. "You're saying you're _glad_ we found this piece of crap wedged in a stained sofa? You got problems, man."

"No—and gross, dude, really," Sam briefly looked up at his brother in disgust before turning his attention back to the now-combined contents of the two hex bags on the table. "While you guys were gone, I did some more research into the first bag's ingredients. The nature of the second bag adds up and, well, I'm thinking the victims aren't being targeted out of a personal vendetta."

It was Bela's turn to look at him in confusion. "What are you talking about? Some witch spree-killer?"

"Not exactly. Check this out," Sam turned to read from his laptop's screen. "'Three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest.'"

Bela's eyes widened in realization. "The Celtic Calendar. The final day of the final harvest is October 31st. That's tomorrow, that's—"

"Halloween," Dean finished with a grim nod. "So, what, this witch is working a spell? Some sort of incantation that can only be performed within a certain time frame?"

Sam nodded. "And if I'm right, this witch is trying to summon a demon—and not just any demon. Samhain."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and craned his head to the side. "Who?"

"Really, Dean? You don't know who—?" Bela sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose; there was no point in starting an argument with him now. "Samhain is the original demon of Halloween. He's the reason why this holiday is so popular now in the first place, though it wasn't all candy and cutesy costumes back when he was around. It was way more superstitious."

"It goes deeper than that, of course, but Bela's pretty much right," Sam agreed, "The Celts believed that the veil between the living and the dead was thinnest on October 31st. They were damn terrified of Samhain; it was his night. I mean, they put masks on to hide from him, put sweets out to appease him, carved faces into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised centuries ago, though. Now it's just like Bela said—'all candy and cutesy costumes.'"

Dean was quiet as he took in the information. "And now some witch wants to raise Samhain and turn Halloween back into the mess of blood orgies and demon worshipping it once was? Just friggin' splendid."

"This is serious, man," Sam pressed. "We're talking heavyweight witchcraft. This ritual can only be performed every six hundred years."

Bela sighed. "I'm guessing tomorrow night is the next six hundredth-year mile marker?"

The grim look Sam gave her was all she needed to confirm her worries.

Dean motioned at a picture on Sam's laptop depicting a dark figure with a horridly drawn face being followed by a mass of equally hideous beings, a bunch of obviously dead bodies lying at their feet. "And what the hell is that?"

"Once Samhain's raised, he can—and, in fact, enjoys—doing some raising of his own. They follow him around like the damn line leader in a kindergarten class."

"Raise what, exactly?"

"Dark, evil crap. Once he starts bringing this stuff back, it'll be like a hurricane of death and dementedness hit the entire human race."

Bela ran a hand through her hair. "Alright, well, this definitely sounds like a Seal to me."

Dean shared a look with her. "No kidding. If this witch succeeds in bringing the bastard back, it'll be a damned slaughterhouse."

* * *

The next day, Bela started off early in their continued investigation for the Samhain-obsessed witch, getting up well-before either of the boys and taking the Impala out for a spin. She knew it'd definitely freak Dean out, which part of her had been aiming for, though she also actually needed a ride to her destination and she didn't feel it was especially necessary to steal a car that she'd only need to use for a few hours when there was one the boys actually owned parked just outside their motel room. With that thought, she pickpocketed the Impala's keys from the pair of jeans Dean fell asleep in before sneaking out at around 8 o'clock Saturday morning and heading straight for the Wallace family's home.

She had been parked across the street and watching the front door of the house closely for about two hours before her phone trilled in her pocket. She didn't have to look at the caller ID to know who it was, though she wouldn't even had a chance to ask anyway since Dean was already yelling when she answered.

"Where the hell is she, Bela?"

She smirked at his anger, never taking her eyes off of the Wallaces' home. "You were sleeping and now I'm working. Don't worry; I'm taking great care of her."

As she patted the steering wheel in faux affection, Dean growled in her ear. It was almost satisfying for her, though the feeling was quickly cut off as he attempted to reel in his anger and override it with the little patience he could muster.

"Where are you? If I find out you took off with my Baby to god knows where—"

"Relax, Dean, before you have an ulcer," she smoothed a hand through her hair. "I'm sitting out in your _beloved_ car in front of the first victim's house. No scratches, no dents, no anything. I'm being responsible."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, well, next time could you at least leave a note? I almost had a damn heart attack. And did you say you were at Luke Wallace's house? Why?"

"Are you kidding? Experiencing you freak out is the only reason why I do these things anyway," she smiled as she pictured the current expression on his face. "And to answer your second question, I'm here to find the link between Luke and Jenny. Sam said they weren't being targeted for personal reasons, but they're linked somehow. I figured if it wasn't just the witch that connected the two together, maybe I could find the link on my own?"

"And, what, you've just been sitting out there for the past two hours?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not. I had a talk with the man's widow as soon as I got here. She was a weeping mess, as expected. I actually felt sorry for her."

The sound of an overdramatic gasp filled her ears, causing her to smile and shake her head. "Do me a favor and look out the window, would you? Do you see anything? Are pigs flying?"

"Cheeky," she tried to make her voice sound unamused but the light blush in her cheeks and wide smile on her face practically screamed otherwise. "You're hilarious, truly. I'm falling over with laughter."

"Well, you know, I try," he grinned into the receiver, "You should come to my stand-up show. It was rated five stars by all the critics."

She was smiling like a kid, joking so lightly with him like this. "I'm afraid I've had my fair share of front-row seats at the Dean Winchester comedy act, but thank you anyway. I'd give it three stars, at best."

"Three stars? Oh, you wound—"

Bela's eyes widened as a black sedan pulled up in front of the Wallace house, a familiar blonde girl stepping out of the car and walking up to the front door of the home. "Bloody _hell_, Dean."

"What? What'd I do?"

"No, not you, it's…it's _her_. The girl I questioned yesterday at the crime scene; Tracy. She's Mrs. Wallace's babysitter."

Bela watched as the door opened and Mrs. Wallace, who looked as if she was running late for work, handed Tracy her toddler son and had a brief discussion with her. Not long after that Tracy watched as Mrs. Wallace got in her car and drove away before disappearing inside the house; neither of the two women noticing Bela sitting in the Impala just across the way.

"Son of a bitch. You're not joking?"

"Dean, why would I joke about this?"

He let out a groan. "I don't know. I just want to believe that we didn't totally get fooled by a sixteen year old, boy-band obsessed cheerleader!"

Bela started the Impala and quickly drove away from the premises, keeping her cell pressed flat against her ear. "Well, we did, and she isn't. She's a hundred year-old witch looking to bring back a murderous demon and she's only one blood sacrifice away from achieving it."

* * *

**AN: **Sorry about the small delay. I've been sick/busy/suffering from writer's block, hence the lack of originality in this chapter. Also, did anyone catch Bela's FBI alias? Irene Adler, anyone? The Natalie Dormer version, of course! I mean, who doesn't love an intelligent British thief that's played by Nat Dormer? Just like Bela-who doesn't love an intelligent British thief that's played by _Lauren Cohan_?

That's right! NO ONE!


	10. Following Orders

"She lied straight to my face and I didn't even catch it," Bela scowled at the floor of her and the brothers' motel room, her arms folded tightly across her chest. "That little...well, _witch_."

"You're sure it was Tracy? Not some other girl that maybe looked like her?"

Bela turned her scowl on Sam, though it wasn't entirely directed at him. "Am I sure? Of course I'm bloody _sure_. She killed a young girl who she claimed to be best friends with and an innocent family man. Not only that, but she's continuing to babysit his infant son as if nothing happened in the first place. We need to get her away from that poor boy."

Sam looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Okay, I'm all for stopping this witch from harming anymore innocent lives—especially a kid's—but…Bela, since when did you ever give a crap about some child you've never even met?"

Since when? That was definitely a loaded question. Though she never really made it a point to hang around children, she had always been fairly good with them; having a rough upbringing made it easy to empathize with young kids. Add into the mix the fact that she was now expecting a son or daughter of her own, answering the "since when?" question was going to be fairly difficult.

However, it wasn't like she was going to say all of this, anyway. Instead she shoved a hand through her hair and let out a frustrated sigh, turning her gaze briefly out a nearby window.

"I just…look, I see your point," she replied, her voice a much lower volume than before. "All I want is to stop this witch from breaking another Seal. Too many have fallen out of our hands already; we can't afford another one to be broken."

Dean pressed his lips into a flat line. "She's right. We're getting our asses kicked here. We need to step our game up."

"That's good to hear," an unfamiliar voice suddenly sounded from behind Bela and the boys didn't waste any time aiming their weapons at the new entity. When she turned around she was met almost face-to-face with an older African-American man in a pressed navy suit, the self-righteous expression on his face immediately making her feel off-put.

"Who the hell are you?" The older Winchester barked, not backinb down as the well-dressed man stepped forward unflinchingly.

"Dean, he is not a threat. Put your weapons down," All three humans turned their heads as Castiel suddenly appeared on the opposite side of the room, his hands raised in peace. Bela looked at him nervously—the last time she had seen the angel was when he had informed her of her pregnancy. "This is Uriel."

Dean was slightly more hesitant to lower his gun than his brother was. The smug smile Uriel had on his face had him distrustful, too.

"Another angel?" Bela asked, looking at Uriel wearily.

"Nice to meet you too," There was no underlying joking tone in the statement; Uriel's voice was completely unamused, devoid of any interest in the humans. In fact, he actually seemed as if he'd rather be doing anything else than talking to the three of them at that moment, especially as he turned his flat gaze on to Sam. "I'm assuming you're the one with the demon blood?"

Sam hesitated to respond. Though he didn't shoot his companion a knock-it-off expression, when Cas spoke it was evident that he was trying to soften the statement.

"We are glad you have ceased your extracurricular activities." He smiled awkwardly at the younger brother and nodded his head once in greeting.

"What are you two doing here?" Dean asked, getting straight to business.

"Bela has already told you about the Seal," Cas replied, turning his eyes on the elder brother. "You know about the rising of Samhain. Have you identified the witch?"

Dean looked suspicious of the two angels' ulterior motives, though he nodded nonetheless. "We have."

"And have you killed it?"

"No, but—"

Uriel stepped closer to him, his expression almost annoyed. "Precious time is being wasted each second you do not end the witch's life. It is one step closer to breaking a Seal."

Dean gritted his teeth and stared the angel in the eye. "Well, we'd be out there trying to do just that if we weren't stuck entertaining our holy guests." He looked to Cas, deciding that he much preferred him to his well-dressed companion. "We know who the witch is. We're working on it."

"Apparently the witch knows who you are too," Cas replied, lifting a hex bag in the air for all to see. "It was hidden in your room's wall. You're lucky we found it before you ended up like one of the victims."

"We'll get it done," Dean pressed, his tone sounding as if he just wanted the two of them to leave already. Bela couldn't blame him.

Cas shook his head. "It's too late for that. You three need to leave this town immediately."

"And why would we do that?" Bela drew her eyebrows together, looking at the angel incredulously.

"Because we are about to destroy it," he answered her grimly. "We are out of time. This witch needs to die; the Seal needs to be saved."

"So, what, you're just going to kill over a thousand innocent people?" Dean shouted.

Uriel almost looked satisfied. "One thousand, two hundred and fourteen. This isn't the first time I've had to purify a city."

Bela looked at him as if he was crazy. "'_Purify_'? What you're talking about is outright murder!"

Uriel opened his mouth to argue but it was Cas that spoke instead. "I understand that this is regrettable, but it must be done. Uriel is a...specialist."

"Oh, so just because this guy gets off on smiting innocent lives makes what you're trying to do here okay?" Dean snapped, his fury evident.

"There's a bigger picture here," Cas argued, "It's one thousand lives in exchange for six billion. If this witch succeeds, the damage done will be far greater than what we will do to this town."

Sam looked at the angel determinedly. "We'll stop this witch before she raises Samhain. Your precious Seal won't be broken, and no one has to die."

Cas looked between the three humans remorsefully before turning around and facing his companion. "I'm sorry, but we have our orders."

"You've never questioned any of the orders you've received before?" Bela cut in, looking at the back of Cas' head almost pleadingly. "Even you must know that this isn't right. Can't you give us a little more time? If you'd just hold off, we could hunt the witch down and kill her before she gets the chance to do any harm."

Cas turned to look at her. His eyes seemed to be filled with pity and it made her stomach churn angrily, though that didn't keep her from standing her ground.

"The plan is just. Look, even if you can't understand it, have fai—"

"Don't," Bela cut him off, body trembling with anger. She had had enough of Castiel's backwards morals and vague information. "Don't say that now. I am not going to rely on some ambiguous concept when I have two _angels_ standing before me insisting that diminishing an entire town and its inhabitants is actually '_just_'."

She was in Cas' face now, but he didn't look that intimidated. He stared back at her, eyes totally loyal to his emotions, though it wasn't like he actually had any, anyway.

Dean stepped up beside Bela, looking Cas resolutely in the eye. "You want to destroy this town? Go ahead. But we're not leaving, so you can destroy us right along with it."

Cas looked unwaveringly back at the elder brother. "Tell me something, Dean. When your father gave you an order, did you not obey?"

Dean clenched his jaw but ignored the question and its obvious point, instead keeping his expression decisive. "You went through the trouble of busting the two of us out of the pit. That tells me that we mean something to _your_ 'father' upstairs. Killing us would only make you the black sheep of the family, am I right?"

Uriel scowled at him in anger. "Castiel dragged you out, but _I_ will throw you back in without even a single blink."

Dean ignored him and kept his eyes firmly trained on Cas. "You told us to have faith? Then take your own advice and have faith in _us_. Give us some more time and we'll have this witch dead soon enough."

When Cas didn't respond and instead looked at the humans as if he was thinking the proposal over, Uriel stepped up and looked at his companion disbelievingly.

"You aren't honestly letting them command you around like a _dog_, are y—?"

"_Enough!_" Castiel shouted, glaring sternly over his shoulder at his colleague before turning his attention back to the three humans standing before him, his lips pressed together in a flat line. "I suggest you get to work."

With that, the two angels disappeared, leaving the three humans standing apprehensively around the room. They exchanged silent nods before taking Cas' advice and getting straight to work, going to their laptops to start their search for Tracy's current location. After digging up some information pointing in the direction of her art teacher, Dean and Bela briefly departed the motel room to go question the man, though the only relevant information they received from him was that Tracy had been incorporating some incredibly disturbing inspirations in her recent art projects, such as gory images displaying murderous scenes or cryptic Celtic symbols scrawled harshly on the paper. The two of them relayed this information to Sam when they got back, and he, in turn, informed them of Tracy's current residence.

They arrived at her house not long after that, though night had already fallen and children and their parents were walking the streets trick-or-treating. Tracy's house, unsurprisingly, was the only one undecorated and completely dark, which made it easier for Bela, Dean and Sam to sneak on to the premises and break into the house.

The sounds of a cryptic voice led the trio to the home's basement, but when they got there and saw the art teacher standing in front of a tied-up Tracy with a knife held threateningly above his head, they wasted no time embedding four bullets cleanly into his back.

Tracy let out a startled cry as the teacher fell to the ground and Dean and Sam walked over to free her from her bindings. Bela bent down and checked the teacher's pulse, making sure that he was, in fact, dead, as Tracy sucked in a shaky gasp of air behind her.

"Thank you! He was…he was gonna kill me!" The three humans were suddenly on the edge again as Tracy let out a disbelieving laugh. "Can you believe it? Kill _me_. I put in all this work and _he_ tries to take all the glory—and his incantation was so sloppy. My brother always was an idiot."

Dean, Bela and Sam aimed their guns at the girl unwaveringly, despite their surprise at the events that had recently unfolded. Before they could fire off any shots, however, Tracy lifted her hand and shouted an incantation, throwing the three back with a wave of invisible force before kneeling down beside her art teacher's—_brother's_—dead body.

"He was going to make me the final sacrifice, but now that honor goes to him," She continued as Bela and the brothers writhed in agony on the basement's floor. "It's a two-man job, you see, raising our master and all. I had to deal with his pretentious bullshit for six hundred years. It was unbearable."

Tracy picked up a knife that her brother had dropped before digging the blade into one of his bullet wounds, catching the blood flow in a chalice she had picked up from a nearby table. "But now he's dead, thank god."

Bela, Dean and Sam were left to watch Tracy take the blood-filled chalice to an altar on the other side of the room, the incantation she had used on them keeping them pressed firmly to the floor. Bela grit her teeth as she willed her baby to flood her body with power again; maybe she could actually move under the force this time, unlike during her encounter with Azazel. A witch was significantly less powerful than a demon, after all, meaning that overpowering Tracy wouldn't be hard if Bela was provided the juice to do so.

The juice never came. When she tried to will her baby to do something, _anything_, all Bela received in response was a churning feeling in her gut. She deflated—though she shouldn't have put some much expectation into it anyway. This was a _child_ after all, and an unborn child at that. She was a twenty-four year-old woman who was being held down by a spell of a witch. She, Dean and Sam were screwed. Tracy was going to raise Samhain and—

As if on cue, the handprint glowed bright beneath her shirt, sending out a single pulse of power that seemed to slice through the force field pinning the trio to the ground like butter. Dean wasted no time pushing himself into a standing position, swiping his handgun up along the way and shooting Tracy four times in the back, identical to how her brother had met his demise only a few minutes before. He panted quietly as Sam moved over to Tracy's body, looking up and nodding his head gravely in confirmation once he failed to find a pulse.

Dean looked questioningly at Bela, who was still gathering her bearings on the ground. "How the hell does your mark override an incantation like that while all mine does is itch all day?"

Bela swallowed, averting her gaze from Dean's as he helped her up off the ground. "I don't know. That was…odd," she lied, rubbing her shoulder where the handprint lay.

His eyes hovered on her and he looked as if he was going to ask her some more questions before he changed his mind at the last minute. Instead, he turned to his brother with an eyebrow raised. "Is Samhain still locked up in the cage?"

Sam looked at the chalice Tracy had dropped on the ground after being shot. There was a puddle of blood pooled around it. "She didn't complete the ritual. We saved the Seal."

Dean smirked triumphantly. "Take that, Uriel, you son of a bitch."

* * *

Bela's eyes trailed back and forth as a group of kids played tag in and around a park's playground, the dark smudges and stains on their clothes contrasting heavily with the overjoyed and excited expressions on their faces. She found herself subconsciously caressing her belly with one of her hands, though she immediately dropped it once a faint fluttering of feathered wings sounded from beside her, signaling Castiel's arrival.

She didn't turn her head to acknowledge his presence. She could feel his eyes hovering on her curiously, but she ignored it and waited for him to break the silence, as she knew he would.

"Congratulations," he said, voice gravelly, "you did well. The town was saved; Samhain wasn't raised. This was a success."

She still hadn't looked at him. "Don't thank me. Thank Dean. He's the one that convinced you to give us more time."

"I should thank your child," he replied, "It helped you get free in time to stop the witch."

"I thought my child was an 'abomination'?" Bela finally set her eyes on him, though they were filled with bitterness. "I thought I needed to get rid of it; that it'd 'put me in danger'?"

Though she was saying these things resentfully, Castiel didn't seem offended that she was mocking him.

"It _will_ put your life at risk," the angel pressed. He almost seemed concerned for her. "That child makes you a target. Lilith will see it as a threat—to her, to the devil. She will send people after you, eventually."

"Lilith already wants me dead," Bela looked away. "She's sent things before."

"Those things were just warnings. She's scared of this child. She'll try anything in her power to have it taken away from you; even if that means having you killed in the process."

Bela frowned. "Why would she be scared of an unborn baby? You said that its powers would diminish as it develops. By the time it's born it'll just be a normal human being."

"That may be," Castiel bowed his head in agreement. "But even so, your child will be a prophet."

When Bela looked at him, she immediately knew that he had regretted saying the words in the first place. Nevertheless, that didn't stop her from asking, "What? What do you mean?"

She should have expected that he would remain tight-lipped, however. When he lowered his head in regret, Bela bitterly looked away and shook her head.

"Oh, right, I forgot. You have '_orders_' to follow."

"Soon enough, I promise. You and Dean will know soon enough."

"I wanna believe you, Cas, I really do. But I've learned to not get my hopes up too often when it comes to you angels."

When she looked back at him, he had a small, knowing smile on his face, though the apology was evident in his eyes all the same. The two of them were quiet again after that. Castiel sat with her as she watched the kids play, and the angel seemed to appreciate the view of the children enjoying themselves so innocently.

"You know, our orders were not to smite the town. They were to do whatever you and Dean said."

Bela looked back at him, eyebrows knitted together. "What?"

"I had a feeling you two wouldn't have allowed this town and all the innocent people living in it to be killed," he continued, "I was right."

"What reason would you do that for? You know, Dean was close to punching Uriel square in the jaw yesterday. We could have skipped over the argument if you'd have just told us you were going to follow our lead."

"It was a test," Castiel explained, "to see how you would perform under…battlefield conditions."

"And, what, did we fail because we didn't do what _Uriel_ wanted and have this city blown to pieces?"

"You misunderstand me. I actually prayed that you and Dean would save this town and its inhabitants."

Bela raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"These people…they're my father's creations. I would not see them so easily wiped clean from the planet. And though you did manage to save the Seal in the end, there are still others. I was not lying when I said the damage done here wouldn't even begin to match the damage done to the entire world if Lucifer is freed."

The Englishwoman looked at the ground. She was tired of fighting; of worrying. She wished she could go one day without having to think about Lucifer or the Seals or the apocalypse. Just one day where she could simply _live_.

Though she knew that if they succeeded in stopping Lilith in her quest to free the devil, she would be able to do just that.

"Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?"

Bela looked at him and nodded her head softly.

"You asked me if I ever questioned my orders. The answer is yes. I have my questions; I have my doubts. I don't know what's right or wrong anymore…whether you passed or failed. But in the coming months you and Dean will have more decisions to make. I don't envy your position, Bela, or the weight that's been put on your shoulders. I truly don't. And I am sorry for that."

Bela smiled faintly. "You're trying, Cas," she turned to gaze at the kids running around the playground. "We all are."

When she looked back, Castiel was gone.

* * *

She could hear the whispers. The names. It was like sitting in a room overlooking another filled to the brim with people; and all important people, at that. They all had their own specialties. Not one of them was inferior to the other because what one lacked, another made up for. In fact, they complemented each other, though by the way they were speaking, she could tell that they liked to think otherwise.

They were self-righteous.

And then there was one. A man. He wasn't arrogant like the others. He was empathetic, which normally would be a good trait in people, though these beings seemed to view it as a weakness.

They were saying the names now. Dean, Bela. Dean. Bela. Dean! Bela! They were being thrown around, back and forth in the many conversations flickering through her head. She was like the dial on a radio and if she moved just a little off to the side, then all she'd be met with was static.

The others were addressing the empathetic man. Castiel. He was Castiel, and he was defending Dean and Bela. They were mortals. By the way the others were talking about the two of them, mortals didn't sit very high in their opinion, but they were still conflicted. They had orders—orders they doubted—some wanted to disobey, others wanted to follow.

Castiel was the only one who was completely torn between the two.

She blinked, trying to listen in on what Castiel was saying. It was broken. The words came in and out; something about vessels, then an unborn child. She was close to finally hearing everything clearly, if only she could just…

"Hello?"

She blinked. Suddenly, the voices in her head were gone.

"Anna? You're at the Connor Beverly Behavioral Medicine Center. Do you know why you're here?"

Anna shrugged.

"Do you remember what you did?"

Anna nodded.

"You were hysterical. It took four orderlies to restrain you."

"I was trying to warn them."

The psychologist tilted her head to the side in interest. "Warn them of what?"

Anna was quiet for a moment as she turned her head and gazed out the window. She couldn't hear the voices anymore. They either realized she was listening in or she had momentarily lost connection with whatever allowed her to hear their conversations.

It seemed like a lifetime before she looked at the psychologist again, her face completely expressionless.

"The Apocalypse."

* * *

**AN: **This chapter is shorter than the others and lacking a lot of original qualities, but I needed it here for obvious reasons (introducing Anna, tying up the Samhain Seal and actually making them save it unlike in the show because Dean, Bela and Sam needed to win something sooner or later in this fic) and I can tell you guys now that there will be another original chapter coming your way soon! [hint] it _may_, just _may_ contain some domestic holiday fluff.

P.S.: Uriel's an asshole.


	11. Going After Anna

Dean watched as his brother moved languidly around the pool table, his movements slurred and unbalanced as he held an overused cue loosely in his fist; a droopy, almost naïve smile hanging from his mouth. With the entire upper half of his body pressed flat against the table's green felt, Sam lined up a shot and subsequently—horribly—missed it.

The younger Winchester let out a light-hearted curse as his opponent, a burly biker, sunk the 8-ball into its designated corner. "Brian, c'mon, man. Just…just one more. C'mon. Just give me a chance to win it back."

"No, I don't think so, Beanstalk," Brian—the opponent—tucked the cash he had won from the game securely into his vest's pocket, smiling in satisfaction at Sam's disadvantageous state.

It was here that Dean interrupted, stepping away from the bar with a beer bottle in hand and his lips pursed together.

"Hey, buddy. My brother's a little too sauced to be making bets."

Brian didn't look all that threatened. He turned the smug smile on to Dean. "He insisted. Why don't you back off and let your brother handle himself, huh?"

"You're already up two Franklin's. Why don't we just call it a night?"

Sam drunkenly racked up the pool balls, the table being the only thing keeping him from falling completely over. "Hey, shut up, man. I'm _fine._"

"You're not fine. You're wasted outta your damn skull!"

Sam deftly ignored his older brother and turned to look at his opponent. "Let's make it five hundred."

Dean opened his mouth to argue but was cut off before he could do anything. Brian's smile widened even further and he bobbed his head in sanction. "Alright, game on."

As Brian bent over to break, Dean and Sam exchanged glances. For a moment, all traces of Sam's "drunkenness" disappeared, and his older brother was left suppressing an amused smile as the biker before them had no idea how badly he was being played. Sam bent over to line up another shot, this one guaranteed to sink in, but at the last second his eyes caught something on the far side of the bar and he abruptly stood up, abandoning the cue on the table.

"Keep the money."

Dean's disbelief—and disapproval—was genuine this time as his eyes widened and jaw dropped. "Wha—'_keep the money'_?"

He had a half a mind to continue the game where Sam left off—_that was five hundred goddamn dollars he was giving up!—_but he instead followed his brother to a darkened corner of the bar, his face immediately turning into a scowl as he caught sight of the familiar brunette dressed head-to-toe in black talking to Sam.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the woman. "You must be pretty friggin' brave to be showing your face anywhere near me."

"I have some info, then I'm gone," Ruby nimbly ignored Dean's jab, gliding her eyes briefly over him before settling more intently on his brother.

"Okay, what is it?" Sam replied, his demeanor much more accepting than his tense brother standing beside him.

Ruby looked between the boys. "I'm hearing whispers."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You're a real Jennifer Love-Hewitt, aren't you?"

She, again, ignored him. "Girl named Anna Milton escaped from a locked ward yesterday. The demons seem pretty keen on finding her. Apparently, some real heavy-hitters turned up for the manhunt."

"Why? Who is she?" Sam asked.

"No idea," she replied, "But I'm thinkin' she's important, 'cause the order is to catch her alive. I just figured that whatever her deal is, you two would want to bag her before the demons do."

Sam nodded his head in gratitude. "Alright, thanks, Ru—"

"Actually, we're working a case, but the thought's _very_ touching," Dean snapped, sarcasm thick.

Ruby played along. "Oh, yeah? And what case is that?"

"Big case. Big stuff. We have leads."

Her eyes flashed. "Sounds dangerous."

Dean grew angrier as he lost the game he had initiated in the first place. "Yeah, well, it's sure as hell more promising than going off on a wild goose chase after a girl we're not even sure exists."

"Like I told you, I'm just delivering the news," Ruby folded her arms across her chest, completely unaffected. Then she got a twinkle in her eye that made him completely uncomfortable. "But I think you should know that in the days leading up to her escape, Anna became particularly fixed on two people. Dean Winchester and Bela Talbot."

The way Dean's ears twitched told her that she had him.

Sam was the one to talk, however. "What? You're sure about this?"

Ruby nodded, smoothing her hair over her shoulder. "So I suggest you go snag up the Brit on your way to find Anna. She'll want in on this, too."

* * *

It was late. She wasn't expecting anyone. So why the _hell_ was somebody knocking on her door at half-past midnight?

Bela got up from her spot on the couch and shuffled leisurely over to the door, using her nimble fingers to slide back the locks before opening it and looking flatly at the two men standing before her.

She should have known.

"What're you guys doing here?" She asked, unamused, though a faint stricken expression crossed her face as Dean simply allowed himself inside, his brother following him in a more hesitant manner.

"We were in town," the elder brother began, though his smile faltered as Sam shot him a stern look. "Okay, well, we were in _Maine_, but that's not the point."

"I think it kind of is," Bela cut in, eyebrows furrowing in suspicion. "So, I'm going to ask again. Why are you here?"

"We have a lead on this girl," Sam started, refusing to let his brother tip-toe around the subject any longer. If he let the two of them go on alone, then they'd be bantering for hours. "The demons are after her, they want her alive. She seems to have a…_connection_ with you and Dean."

Bela frowned. "And who is this girl?"

"Her name's Anna Milton."

She shrugged. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"Yeah, well, I'd be surprised if you knew her," Dean added, smiling blithely, "She's a church-going girl, comes from a conservative family—"

"—who also just broke out of a psychiatric ward," Sam sternly finished, giving his brother a look. Bela smirked at Dean's lighthearted attempt at a jab, and Sam was left rolling his eyes at the both of them. "We're going to go find her; figured you'd want to come."

Bela tilted her head in consideration. "I might. How'd you find out about this girl, anyway?"

This was where Sam hesitated, following the silence with a swallow. "She's a friend. Uh, her name's—"

"Ruby," Dean flatly finished, "Her name's Ruby. The demon chick."

Bela raised her eyebrows, "Oh, the half-naked woman from the motel room?"

Sam parted his lips and gave his brother an incredulous look. "Wait, you _told_ her?"

"Oh, cut it, Sammy," Dean waved his hand dismissively. "She knew about the powers—I figured it wasn't much of a stretch to tell her about Ruby, too. Besides, look, she isn't even appalled."

He was right. She wasn't.

She looked at the boys through narrowed eyes, waiting for them to go on. "So, back to the girl, Anna. What's this lead you said you have?"

"The hospital where she escaped from. We have its location," Dean scratched the back of his head. "It's a three-day drive from here."

She shrugged. "You've driven further for less, no doubt."

Sam shot his brother an "I told you so" look but Dean quickly ignored it.

"So, does that mean you're in?"

She tilted her head to the side and shrugged in finality. "Sounds promising...and intriguing. It also seems like this Anna girl might be mixed up in all of this angels, demons, apocalyptic crap."

Dean smiled faintly. "We wouldn't be taking much of a risk to assume so, no."

Bela soon broke off to pack her things, though she was initially hesitant leaving the brothers alone to snoop around the rest of her apartment. Her worries were quickly laid to rest; however, as she listened to them as she packed. She could hear Dean ruffling around in her kitchen, cursing at her supply of yogurts and lack of proteins; saw Sam playing with Peru from her bedroom, quiet noises of entertainment coming from him as the cat swiped spiritedly at his cheek. Though she rolled her eyes at the first prospect, she smiled at both of them nevertheless. It was very domestic of the boys. She had never seen them act so normal in a single setting. Despite all of the problems looming over their heads, they could revert back to a single behavior that was so _normal_.

It was brief, of course, but it was refreshing to experience nevertheless.

They embarked on the drive to Connor Beverly Behavioral not long after that. As expected, Dean chastised Bela for not keeping her fridge appropriately stocked—not appropriately stocked for _him_, she noted; the underlying implication that he probably didn't even intend making her slightly blush. She brushed off the comment with a shrug and half-smile. Sam also mentioned something about liking Peru, though his nose was plugged and he was already sneezing from the cat fur by the time they climbed back into the Impala.

Dean berated his brother as they drove—_how could you forget you're allergic to cats?_—Sam dismissed his worries, eyes growing itchy—_it's not that serious, man, calm down, I'm fine_—and all the while Bela watched from the back seat, face warm and smile genuine, as she experienced this calming normativity.

She cupped her belly. Normativity, domestication; it was all very _familial_. They were brothers, Dean practically raised Sam; it was normal. Bela was pregnant with Dean's child, she would be a mother and he would be a father; usually, that would be considered normal. It wasn't though, because Dean didn't know. However, that didn't stop Bela from basking in the lighthearted mood in the Impala. It gave her a brief glimpse towards the normativity all three of them wanted—the normativity neither of them were exactly sure they deserved.

She was happy the entire car ride to Anna Milton's hometown. They stopped twice at two different motels and shared the rooms, though Bela had been immediately guaranteed one of the beds and the boys had to play rock-paper-scissors for the other. Sam won on both occasions, subjecting Dean to the grimy floor.

Bela pitied him. And that was why, on the second night, she crept out from under the covers once she was sure Sam was asleep and nudged Dean's leg with her toe.

He hadn't been sleeping, she knew, as he immediately rolled over to look at her. "Everything okay?"

She nodded. "Just…just don't make me regret this, alright? Get up. C'mon."

"What're you—?"

"_Dean._"

He immediately shut up and pushed himself off the ground, following her over to the bed as she climbed back in and drew the blankets up to her chin. That signaled that something _definitely_ wasn't happening between the two of them, but he didn't mind. In fact, as he made it a point to lie on _top_ of the covers instead of beneath them where their bare legs could touch, he found that he actually enjoyed just lying beside her all the same.

Soon, he could hear her lightly snoring, and it was like a melody to his ears. She sounded sweet, like honey, and he suddenly wished that she wasn't lying with her back facing him so that he could see the expression on her face. Instead, he imagined it. Her features would be, for the most part, relaxed; tawny eyelashes curled flush against her cheeks and lips pink and unperturbed. He could picture a faint crease of concentration forming between her eyebrows because she had a lot on her mind, a lot to think and worry about; so much that she couldn't escape it, not even while asleep.

Dean tensed as Bela suddenly rolled on to her other side so that she was now facing him. He blinked back at her in the darkness, fully expecting her eyes to shoot open and consider him in good-natured suspicion, but all he was met with was the breath from her nose tickling his face as she continued her quiet snore once again.

He let out a breath of his own, one that he hadn't even realized he had been holding. Once he was sure that she was definitely asleep and not simply toying with him, he let his eyes wander over her features. He had been right—eyelashes curled, lips relaxed, crease present. Everything he pictured was all there, and it filled him with an odd sense of pride.

Suddenly, Dean frowned. No. _No._ This was _not _happening to him, especially with her. Especially with _Bela_. He had tactfully ignored the signs ever since they had been brought back—he resisted standing so close to her that one night on the motel balcony and he succeeded in not completely admitting his feelings to her a few nights later on Bobby's porch. Hell, he had even managed to convince himself that he wanted a normal life more than he wanted _her_, though god knew that he would kill for a chance to be with his family again, alive and whole.

But who said he couldn't have that with Bela, as well?

Dean let out a quiet, frustrated groan and rolled on to his side, putting his back to her and trying desperately to force her out of his thoughts. He'd think about this later. That's how he handled personal feelings; he dealt with them only when he absolutely had to. For now, he'd go to sleep, and he'd forget about this until the morning, where he'd wake up and pretend as if he didn't have a whirlwind of conflicted emotions rippling throughout his entire body at the single thought of _her_.

Dean began to snore. From behind him, Bela opened a single eye, smiling at the back of his head in genuine, good-natured suspicion.

* * *

The Connor Beverly Behavioral Medicine Center looked, simply, like a giant white brick with windows. Inside was no better; everything was colorless and plain. Even the orderlies and psychologists were dressed in white, making Bela, Dean and Sam stick out like smudges on the spotless linoleum floor as they walked inside and towards Anna Milton's former cell.

They were greeted outside the room's door by a handsome dark-haired man, the stitching on his coat indicating that he was one of the psychologists working in the ward. He smiled at all three of them in welcome, though his beam was broadest as he turned his eyes on Bela, making her face blush at the slightest.

Dean cleared his throat and looked the psychologist square in the eye, bitterly interrupting his and Bela's little moment. "Yeah, hello, we're with the Sheriff's department."

The psychologist tore his eyes off of Bela, smile slightly fading as he slid them between the two brothers. "Does the department usually send three deputies to talk to a witness?"

Dean smiled at him, though it wasn't genuine. "It's a…new policy."

"Right," the psychologist nodded before turning to open the room's door. "In here, please."

Sam shot his brother a "knock it off" look as they stepped inside the room, with Bela quickly following from behind. The room had since been cleaned up, but Bela could still spot scuffs on the ground and dents in the wall where Anna had struggled with an orderly prior to her escape. Sam seemed to notice it as well, as he turned and gave the psychologist an inquiring look.

"Now, the orderly has no recollection of Anna's escape?"

The man shook his head. "She knocked him unconscious. The blow caused some amnesia. He doesn't even remember coming into the room."

Dean, who had been looking casually through a dresser beside the room's lone cot, turned and glanced at the psychologist skeptically. "What, was this girl a heavyweight, too? Must've had a hell of a right hook to down a guy that's got eighty pounds on her."

"We think she may have planned this; hid behind the door."

Bela stood off to the side and observed a few more marks by the cot, though they looked more like carved symbols than anything. "Right. You mentioned before that Anna's illness was recent?"

The psychologist nodded at her. "She hadn't been a patient here for long. Two months ago she was a happy, well-adjusted journalism major. Lots of friends, smart, kind. She had a bright future ahead of her."

"And she just…snapped?"

"Well, that's the saddest part with schizophrenia. Within weeks, Anna was taken over by delusions, voices in her head."

Sam accepted a notebook the psychologist handed to him depicting many cryptic drawings of horrid figures. Each of the sketches was very detailed.

"Do you have any clue what she was drawing?"

The psychologist grimly bobbed his head in confirmation. "Demons. She thought they were everywhere."

The other three in the room exchanged knowing glances before Sam turned his attention back to the doctor. "And the voices? Did she tell you about anything she was hearing?"

"It's very broken. A lot about demons and other things related to religion, though that wasn't very surprising given Anna's religious background," he cocked his head to the side, rubbing his chin. "What was really intriguing was her fascination with these two distinct people. A man and a woman; Dean and…something starting with a 'B'—"

The Englishwoman lifted an eyebrow. "Bela?"

"Yeah, that's it," he frowned, "How'd you know?"

She didn't smile. "Call it a lucky guess."

"It's not uncommon for our patients to believe that monsters are real," the psychologist continued, "But it was odd for her to become fixated on two people she had never come into contact with before in her life."

Sam flipped some more pages in the notebook before stopping and frowning at a drawing of an impeccably familiar symbol. Scrawled beneath the symbol were the words, "Raising of the Witnesses." On the adjacent page was a drawing of a cryptic-looking jack-o-lantern as well as the words, "Samhain—the next seal saved."

Dean walked up behind his brother and peered down at the second drawing. "That's Revelations."

The psychologist frowned. "Since when does the Book of Revelations have jack-o-lanterns?"

"It's, uh, it's a little-known fact."

"Well, like I said, Anna had a devout upbringing. Her father was a deacon in the church. When she became ill, her paranoia took on religious overtones. She was convinced the devil was going to rise up and end the world. I hope you find her. It's dangerous for her to be out there alone right now."

Dean looked grimly at the doctor. "Oh, I bet."

As the three left the asylum and walked back to the Impala, they began to consider their next move.

"So, are we thinking she's a psychic?"

Sam looked at his brother doubtfully. "Maybe…but, man, I don't know. The stuff psychics see is usually general, spiritual. Anna, well; she's seeing and hearing stuff pertaining to you two specifically."

"Then how about a prophet?"

The word made Bela think about what Castiel had mentioned to her in the park a few weeks ago, though she tried to make herself seem unaffected.

"That's a little more likely, but even prophets are all-seeing. Like I said, Anna seems to have a hankering for all things surrounding you and Bela."

Dean scowled, frustrated. "Ugh, this is all a big friggin' headache. How do we know Ruby isn't messing with us?"

Sam gave him a look. He didn't even seem like he had the energy to argue with him about Ruby. Instead, he pointedly said, "We know she isn't. We checked. Anna is real, she's out there, and we need to find her."

Dean didn't argue. He knew his brother had a point.

"Fine. Where do you suggest we start looking then, huh?"

It was Bela's turn to chime in. "I had a brief talk with the psychologist before we left," she saw Dean flex his jaw in poorly hidden jealousy, and though she was flattered by it, she held up her hand to silence him. "He gave me Anna's parents' address. If she's not there, they might be able to tell us where she is."

Sam nodded his head. "Alright, that's a good start. Let's go."

The Milton house, the trio realized once they knocked on the front door only to find that it was already cracked open, was definitely _not_ a good place to start their search for Anna. Once they stepped foot inside the home, they immediately discovered two dead bodies lying on the living room floor, their throats slit. It seemed that coming to the home only made the investigation more difficult than it already was.

Bela looked grimly at the bodies on the floor.

"I'm assuming that that's Mr. and Mrs. Milton?"

As Sam bent down and touched his fingers to something beside the bodies, he nodded. "And looks like the demons beat us here," he held up his fingers for his companions to see. They were tipped in some sort of powder. "It's sulfur."

"Whatever the deal with this Anna girl is—"

Dean was cut off as Bela caught sight of a photograph on a nearby table, her eyes narrowing in remembrance. She turned to Sam. "Do you still have those drawings the psychologist showed you?" Once he nodded and handed her the notebook, she flipped through the pages until she settled on a colorful drawing of what appeared to be a stained-glass window.

"What is it?" Dean frowned.

"She was drawing her church's window," Bela explained, holding the drawing beside the photograph for the brothers to see.

"Over and over," Sam said, exchanging a look with his brother as Bela flipped through more drawings of the stained-glass window. "If you were religious, scared and had demons on your ass, where would you go to feel safe?"

* * *

The group wasted no time getting to the church once they found its address in Mr. Milton's study, creeping through the old chapel's front doors and searching the first level of the building before eventually finding a small stairwell and climbing their way up. The path led them to the church's attic, and though the room was seemingly devoid of all people, Bela knew better.

She spotted a girl crouched behind a desk on the other side of the room, the top of her red head just barely visible behind a small stack of books. Bela motioned for the boys to put their guns down as she did the same.

"Anna?" The Englishwoman started, stepping forward ever-so-slightly. "We're not here to harm you. We're here to help. I'm Bela. This is Sam, and that's Dean."

She waited patiently as Anna tentatively lifted her head to observe the trio before her. They must've seemed some sort of trustworthy, because soon the young woman was standing up and approaching them, though it was still hesitant.

"Bela? As in, Bela Talbot?" As the woman in question nodded in confirmation, Anna turned to consider the brothers. "And Sam and Dean Winchester?"

"That's us," Dean pressed his lips together and bobbed his head as Anna inched closer.

"It's really you," Relief seemed to flood through the young woman's body. "The angels talk about you—Dean and Bela—all the time. You were in hell, but Castiel pulled you out, and some of them think you can save us. And some of them don't like you at all. They talk about you all the time. I feel like I _know_ you…."

Bela cleared her throat. This was oddity at its finest. "So, you talk to angels, then?"

Anna blushed, as if the fact that Bela was actually talking to _her_ was making her nervous. "Oh, no. It's more like…overhearing. They probably don't even know I exist."

"'Overhearing'?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah. They talk, and I listen. But they don't know that I listen—at least, I don't think they do."

"So are you listening right now? Are they saying anything about us?" Bela raised an interested eyebrow at the woman standing before her.

Anna shook her head. "Not right this second. But there's a lot. I can never shut them out when it happens. There are so many of them."

Bela scoffed and shook her head. "They throw you in an asylum on the account of schizophrenia, when really all this time you're just… involuntarily eavesdropping?"

"Yes," Anna nodded, looking grateful. "Thank you."

Sam looked at the girl with a gentle expression. "Anna, do you know when the voices started?"

"I can tell you exactly," she nodded, "September eighteenth."

Dean and Bela exchanged glances. "That's the day we got out of hell."

"The first words I heard were, 'Dean Winchester and Bela Talbot are saved.' Clear as day."

The other three in the room looked thoughtfully at one another, each of them hoping that one of the others had some sort of theory as to what to make of the situation. They were stuck with nothing, it seemed, and Bela was just about to open her mouth to propose they get somewhere safe when Anna's eyes widened and she let out a scream, scrambling backwards in fright.

"Her _face_!"

Bela turned and caught sight of the woman from Sam's motel room—the _demon_, Ruby—standing at the foot of the stairs. She looked alarmed—by both Anna's frantic screaming as well as some other threat that the others weren't aware of.

"Ruby? What're you doing here?"

"That's the girl?" The demon looked at Anna, seemingly unimpressed, before quickly recovering and locking eyes with Sam. "We need to go."

"And why should we go with you?" Dean countered, glaring at her with the same suspicion and distaste he used to consider _Bela_ with back before their time in hell.

Ruby glanced at him, not giving him the satisfaction of being bothered by his distrust. "Look, there's no time to explain. We need to hurry."

Sam stood between the two, ready to separate them if need be. He looked down at Ruby. "Why? What's going on?"

"There's a demon coming," she began, voice hurried, "A big-timer. We can fight later, Dean. And your little girlfriend can ask questions later, too."

She and the Englishwoman locked eyes—Bela remained composed, though she could tell why Dean was mistrustful of the demon. It was a gut feeling, one that Sam was clearly lacking.

Dean scowled at her. "Well, that's pretty convenient. Showing up right after we find the girl with another demonic a-hole on your tail?"

"I didn't bring him here," Ruby was beginning to grow mad. "_You_ three did."

Bela blinked. "What?"

"He followed you from the parents' house," She began to turn and rush down the stairs. "We've got to go now!"

Bela was just about to oblige when she turned her head to the side and caught sight of a marble bust, though dark, red and wet lines were streaming thickly from the statue's eyes.

"It's too late," Ruby murmured as she too looked at the statue, her expression much more horrified. "He's already here."

Without wasting any time, Sam rushed over to Anna and grabbed her firmly by the arm, but not enough to hurt or scare her. She obliged as he walked her over to a solidly built closet, whispering for her to stay and be quiet before closing the doors in front of her face. When he got back over to Bela, Ruby and his brother, he made a move to pull out a bottle of holy water from his back pocket.

Ruby placed a hand on his arm. "No, Sam. You've got to pull him right away."

Dean gave her a stricken look. "What? Like hell he's—"

"This isn't the time to worry about Sam going dark side," Ruby argued back, deftly cutting him off. "Either he uses his powers now or we all die."

As if on cue, a door on the other side of the attic across from them flew open, revealing a middle-aged blond man standing in a navy-colored suit.

Without even giving him a chance to talk, Sam lifted his hand and attempted to envelope the demon with his powers. The demon moved his shoulders uncomfortably and rolled his head on his neck, but that was about all he did before smiling at the group tantalizingly.

"Oh, that tickles. You don't have the juice to take me on, Sam."

Just like that, the demon lifted his hand in a similar way to the younger Winchester, flicking his wrist to the side and sending Sam tumbling down the stairwell. With what was essentially her only ally knocked out, Ruby moved to the closet and dragged a screaming Anna away from the fight and downstairs to revive Sam.

Bela and Dean held their ground as the demon approached them, his eyes sliding between them both and smile never falling from his face.

"Hello again, Dean." He looked to Bela. "And the weeping bitch is here, too. Ooh, goodie."

Dean blanched at the demon's greeting. Bela frowned as to why he would call her the "weeping bitch", but she had no time to question him as he inched closer and got in Dean's face.

"Come on, Dean. Don't you recognize me?" He didn't wait for the elder brother's reply. "Oh, that's right. I forgot—I'm wearing a pediatrician. But we were so close…in hell."

Cogs were turning in Bela's head as she studied the demon curiously, though it seemed as if her companion had figured out his identity in no time.

Dean let out a breath through his nose and grit out through clenched teeth, "Alastair."

Bela frowned. _Alastair?_ Why did that name sound so familiar? Why did it ring so many goddamn bells?

It was here that Alastair turned his eyes on Bela, his blue pupils boring into her and making her desperately want to look away.

She didn't, though.

"You don't remember me, do you?" He looked down at her, smile sinister. "Oh, I don't suspect you do. After all, if you did, you wouldn't be slumming around with—"

He immediately stopped talking as Dean lunged forward and buried Ruby's knife in his shoulder, though the thing only flickered faintly in Alastair's flesh before he pulled it out and looked at Dean with a serious expression.

"You're going to have to try harder than that, son."

As Alastair lifted the knife threateningly in the air, Dean wasted no time wrapping his arms around Bela's waist and rushing towards the stained-glass window, despite her surprised scream and protesting yells as he protectively cupped his hand against her head and used his shoulder to break through the thick glass. He made sure to curve his body defensively around Bela's as they fell from the two-story level and smacked harshly against the sidewalk below.

Not missing a beat, Dean cupped the sides of Bela's face in his hands. "Are you okay?"

She was blinking at him, half-angry and half-dazed at the stunt he just pulled, as well as momentarily scared for the damaged the fall could have caused her child, but she managed to nod nonetheless.

"Good," he rasped, quickly standing and leading her to her feet by the hand, "Because we need to get out of here, and _fast_."

As the two booked away from the scene, Alastair watched them darkly from the human-sized holes in the stained-glass window, arms folded across his chest as he shook his head.

"A torturer protecting his victim. How ironic."

* * *

**AN: **As always, thanks for reading! I hope you liked the little fluffy-angsty part. At least, I did.

Reviewing is appreciated!


	12. The Double-Edged Blade

Having nowhere else to go, the two climbed into the Impala parked in an alley beside the chapel and made their way back to their motel room, despite knowing full well that that was probably the last place Sam, Ruby and Anna had gone after leaving the church. Nevertheless, they figured that the room was safe for the meanwhile, at least giving them enough time to dress their wounds, in which Bela soon realized Dean had suffered many from their fall.

"Your shoulder, it's—" She looked over at him in concern as he was clearly currently favoring his right arm over the other, gripping the steering wheel tight as he held his left closely to his side.

"—it's fine," Dean stubbornly finished, gritting his teeth as he made a sharp turn on to their motel's street.

"It's _dislocated_," She sternly pressed, turning in her seat to face him fully.

Dean looked at her. "You've got a cut on your cheek."

"I'll survive."

He nurtured his shoulder. "Yeah, well, I'll survive, too."

Despite this stalwart notion, he didn't refuse her help as she walked around to the driver's side of the Impala and helped him out once they pulled into the motel parking lot. She draped one of his—she now realized—incredibly heavy arms around her shoulders while wrapping one of her much more lithe ones around his lower back, hurriedly helping him inside their motel room before kicking the door shut with a hard _thunk_.

Dean immediately hobbled over to a dresser on the other side of the room, gripping the edge with one of his hands so hard that his knuckles turned colorless. He was breathing hard as he lifted his right hand to his opposite shoulder, teeth clenched so hard that a vein had popped out on his forehead.

Bela worriedly rushed over to him, though her movements suddenly became hesitant once she got close, her hand hovering over his on his shoulder.

"Look away," he bit out, as if he was more concerned with the thought of her witnessing him put his limb back into place than the actual obvious pain he was currently in.

"Dean, let me help—"

"Look _away_," he insisted, and despite the fact that she didn't want to, she found herself turning her head and screwing her eyes shut as he let out a harsh grunt that was followed by a distinct _pop_ of his shoulder going back into place. Bela waited a few beats before looking back at him and when she did, he was still gripping the dresser tight, eyes screwed shut as his limb readjusted. However, she could tell that he was in much less agony than he had been moments before.

When he opened his eyes, they immediately came into contact with hers. She looked worried—_it's only a dislocated shoulder,_ he wanted to tell her—and like she was moments away from lifting her hand to cup the side of his face. He waited her for her to do it, in fact, _pleaded_ her to do it, but instead she blinked and the opportunity had passed.

His green eyes fell from her blue ones and landed on the short red scratch running horizontally along her cheekbone. It was nothing serious, but then again a dislocated shoulder was also nothing serious, and he was worried. She saw him eyeing the cut and subconsciously looked down, bringing her fingers to gingerly touch the shallow wound.

"I'm fine," she told him, despite wincing as the salty sweat from her fingers made the cut sting. "It's nothing."

"It could be infected," He firmly argued, "We went through a window, for crying out loud."

She turned her eyes on him, though they weren't full of scorn. "No thanks to you," she regarded him briefly, eyes hovering over his shoulder, before letting out a sigh. "Fine. I'll let you disinfect it, but you have to let me help you wrap your shoulder first."

"Bela, it's _fine_—"

The Englishwoman held up a silencing finger. "Don't fuss over a bloody scratch when you won't even blink twice about a dislocated shoulder."

He was about to argue with her but he instead pressed his lips into a flat line, allowing her to lead him to Sam's health kit on a table on the far side of the room. She instructed Dean to sit in one of the creaky wooden chairs, reaching into the kit and taking out a roll of nude-colored cloth before pulling up an identical chair in front of him. She sat so that his knee was directly between hers and to keep from leaning his against her inner leg, he had to concentrate. He did this by staring intently at her nimble fingers as they unraveled the cloth, though by now the attempt to keep his mind focused was one done in vain.

"Dean?"

He suddenly glanced up, tongue darting out from between his lips as Bela looked at him expectantly. "Hm?"

"Your shirt," He looked at her confusedly, causing her to motion for him to take the piece of clothing off. After proving that lifting his arm over his head accomplished nothing besides making him cripple in pain, Bela curled her fingertips gingerly around the bottom hem of the cotton tee and pulled one side up over his good arm and his head. His Adam's apple bobbed in a long swallow as her fingertips brushed ever-so-slightly against the skin on his lower stomach, and she actually hadn't, or simply pretended not to, notice as every hair on his body began to stand up. She paid the reaction no mind as she continued to lift the shirt off his body, rolling the rest of it down his injured shoulder before dropping it to the carpet beside his feet.

They were quiet as she gently pressed the cloth beneath his clavicle and began wrapping, the bone in her wrist flexing as she rotated her arm back and forth in a repeating motion. Dean didn't know where to stare as she set her eyes determinedly on her task-at-hand, though he soon found himself gazing at the mark of concentration that had formed on her forehead, striking contrastingly with the rest of her smooth features.

Bela was almost like porcelain—creamy and even but definitely lacking in the delicate department, if that sharp tongue and quick wit of hers was any indication. No, maybe she was more like oven-cooked ceramic—rich and smooth on the outer shell, but with a rough inside that could be perceived as a weakness, but only made her seem more poised.

Maybe she was neither. Maybe she wasn't any form of fine china at all. Maybe she was a double-edged knife; smooth to the touch, sharp on all sides, and elegantly beautiful. An easily concealed blade, balanced on both sides—_beauty and brains_—but deadly all the same. As soon as the words clicked in his head, Dean knew he had hit the comparison spot-on. Bela was a knife, thrown straight into his chest and if he pulled her out, he was going to bleed to death.

However, a blade, no matter how finely crafted, was still fragile. And if Dean wasn't careful, he could end up breaking them both.

"Dean?"

He blinked again, realizing that his eyes had fallen to her lips, before bringing them up to her own. "Hm?"

"I'm done."

He glanced down at the wrappings on his shoulder and upper-bicep, moving his arm tentatively as he tested the hold and pursing his lips together in satisfaction at the job well-done. Once she saw the pleased look on his face she began to stand up and walk away, but he caught her wrist in his hand at the last second and locked eyes with her.

"I haven't forgotten," His eyes bore into hers as a faint smile ghosted over her lips. "Sit back down."

She obliged, momentarily thrilled by his sudden bossiness, though she tactfully kept her expression unaffected as he opened the med kit and pulled out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, a square of gauze, and a strip of medicine tape. She watched as he uncapped the bottle and tipped the opening to the gauze, letting it soak a little through the cotton before pinching it gently between his fingers.

He held it just over her cut and looked her in the eyes. "It'll sting."

"I know how rubbing alcohol works, Dean," she softly reminded, tongue-in-cheek as he quirked his lips up in a small smile and pressed the soaked gauze against the scratch. She sucked in a breath through her pearly white teeth as the cut stung, though she was quickly relaxed as Dean smoothed his thumb along her cheekbone in a slow, back-and-forth motion.

Bela was left blinking silently at him as he finished cleaning the cut, her eyes glued to his own as he leaned in with pursed lips and blew gently against the wound. Her eyes fluttered shut at the motion, though she also suddenly became aware of the fact that her hand was wrapped loosely around his wrist as he held his arm up to press his fingers tenderly against the skin on her cheek. She was practically leaning in to his touch and it wasn't until he stopped blowing against her face that she opened her eyes again, locking them with his own. He had already covered the scratch with a thin strip of the med tape, though he also made no move to lean away from the space they were sharing. In fact, the only move he actually made was when he slowly lowered his hand to her mouth, brushing the pad of his thumb delicately against her bottom lip.

Instinctively, she slowly parted her lips and darted out her tongue to wet them, the tip of it coming into brief contact with Dean's thumb and sending a pleased shiver down her spine. She wanted this. She was melting into him. All of her senses were going off on red alert and if neither of them acted, she was sure she was going to spontaneously combust—

The two sprang away from each other as a sharp knock wrapped against the door, startling them both all to hell before they converted the emotion into pure agitation at the disruption. Dean ran a hand through his hair as he cooled off, glancing in annoyed acknowledgment at the door as Bela swiped her palms across her thighs and rolled her bottom lip between her teeth as if she was trying to savor the taste of him.

He shared one last look with her, a silent message being exchanged between the two of them—_this is far from over—_before he got up and practically threw the room's front door open.

"What?"

He was left glaring at a short Hispanic lady garbed in a pink dress and white apron, a bundle of towels tucked under her arm.

She blinked emotionlessly back at him. "Housekeeping."

"Are you kidd—_now_?"

Dean was just about to shut the door in her face when she pushed her way inside, ignoring his protests and uncaringly discarding the towels to the side as the two humans looked at her alarmingly.

"Look, there's no time to talk," The maid rushed and pressed a piece of paper against the palm of Dean's hand. "We're at this address."

Bela, who had since stood up from her chair, looked at the stocky woman disbelievingly. "_Ruby_?"

"Go now," The demon pressed, her tone confirming the Englishwoman's suspicions, "Go through the bathroom window, don't stop, don't take your car, and don't hesitate. There are demons in the hallway and in the parking lot."

Dean was already scowling at her. "But—"

Bela firmly stopped him from talking; however, as she placed a hand on his bare forearm to quiet him down and gave the demon a grim nod of understanding. Ruby pressed her lips together in a firm line before pointedly glancing towards the bathroom and leaving the motel room just as quickly as she came; Bela watched her disappear down a nearby stairwell as a pair of suspicious-looking men walked up in the opposite direction.

Towards Dean and Bela.

Not wasting a second, Dean hastily pulled his shirt back over his head while Bela rushed into the bathroom and threw open the window, climbing onto the outer ledge as Dean quickly followed suit. The two easily jumped down, though the Englishwoman was much more agile with her landing, and soon they were sprinting side-by-side down a darkened alleyway towards the address Ruby had provided them.

No matter how much it bothered him to think of her sitting behind the steering wheel of his Baby, Dean prayed to god that the demon-bitch had the sense to snag it from the parking lot before she left.

* * *

The two hotwired a car they found in a back-alley parking lot, Bela climbing in behind the wheel against Dean's protests and wasting no time punching the address into her phone's GPS system. Dean argued that he could still drive; she argued that he still only had one good arm, and that shut him up for the meanwhile as they navigated their way deep into the town's woods.

Twenty minutes later they pulled up on a small cabin, the car's headlights illuminating the entire building and allowing Bela to see Sam's colossal figure through one of the windows. Killing the engine, she and Dean left the car and were immediately allowed inside the cabin, being ushered in quickly by one of the younger Winchester's widespread hands.

"Glad you made it," Ruby drawled from her spot against the wall, smile wry and arms folded across her chest.

The two newly arrivals ignored her and Bela instead looked to Anna, who was sitting in a chair not far from the demon's position.

"Are you okay?"

Anna smiled and nodded her head. "Ruby's not like other demons. She saved me and Sam's lives."

"Yeah, I hear she does that," Dean angled his jaw before stiffly bringing his eyes to look at the demon. "About that…uh, thanks."

Ruby tilted her head ever-so-slightly to the side. "Don't worry about it."

Dean tore his eyes away from her, wanting desperately to bring the awkward moment to a fast end—it took a lot out of him just to say a simple "thank you" to her—so he scratched the back of his head uncomfortably and turned to look at his brother. "What about you? You went flying like Amelia Earhart down that flight of steps back there."

Sam smirked at his brother's teasing, indicating at Dean and Bela's own obvious injuries with his head. "You two don't look so hot yourselves."

"Your brother got the bright idea to grab me and jump out of the church's second-story window," Bela rolled her eyes and pretended to be annoyed, though the boys both knew she was being lighthearted. She motioned towards Dean. "The daft idiot has a dislocated shoulder, so don't let him try and do anything reckless when I'm not around."

Dean wrinkled his nose, though he found himself subconsciously caressing his hurt shoulder anyway. "I'm not a baby. I can take care of myself."

"Now, we all know that's not true," Bela teased, looking at him playfully as he caught the look and his ears immediately reddened.

Ruby rolled her eyes at them. "Would you like us to leave? We can go outside for a bit, give you two some alone time."

Dean shot her a glare and was about to open his mouth to snap but was deftly cut off as Anna, who had been peering through the blinds on a nearby window, let out a small, scared gasp.

"They're here."

As Sam ushered Anna to an adjacent room for safety, Ruby looked between Dean and Bela expectantly. "Where's the knife?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh…about that—"

A disbelieving expression stained the demon's face. "You've got to be _joking_."

"It's not his fault," Bela defended, before tilting her head to the side with a slight grimace, "Okay, yeah, maybe it kind of is. We can argue about it later. Right now we need to—"

Bela's voice was quickly drowned out as the cabin's front door flew open, nearly flying off the hinges as the familiar faces of Castiel and Uriel appeared expressionlessly on the other side. Dean immediately curled his fists at the sight of the dark-skinned angel, though the reaction that intrigued Bela most was Ruby's, as she looked pensively at the angels and took a tentative half-step away from them.

"Are you here to help, or are you here to scold us like children?" Dean scowled, though it was mostly directed at Uriel rather than Cas. "We've been having demon troubles all day."

Uriel ignored Dean, his dark eyes immediately going to the female demon on the far side of the room. "That much is obvious. Do you want to explain why that _stain_ is here in the room?"

Before anyone could answer, Cas spoke up. "We're here for Anna."

Bela drew her eyebrows together in suspicion. "Here to protect her or here to take her away?"

Uriel stepped forward and looked menacingly at the young woman. She didn't falter though; kept her eyes locked fearlessly with his as he said through clenched teeth, "Stop talking. Give her to us now."

Bela only tore her eyes away from the angel to look at his much more approachable companion. "Are you going to help her?"

When Cas' eyes met hers, they were devoid of any emotion; no sorrow, no sympathy—just completely flat.

"No. We're here to kill her."

The Englishwoman gaped incredulously back at him. He had shown some remorse before for the questionable stuff he'd been order to do in the past, so how was he able to not even blink twice about ending the life of an innocent woman?

Sam was just as unbelieving as she. "_What_? What for?"

Before Cas could reply, Uriel walked closer to the humans in an attempt to shove past them. Dean protectively—_instinctively_—stepped in front of Bela, jaw set determinedly as he looked the angel in the eye, arms poised just in case he needed to defend himself.

"You're here to gank her just because she's wiretapping into your angel gossip?"

"Don't worry," Uriel smiled sinisterly, ignoring the obvious question, "I'll make it a quick, clean death."

"You're some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?" Dean glared. "That's an innocent girl back there, and—"

Cas' voice had a slight edge to it when he spoke next. "She is far from innocent."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked wearily.

Uriel looked at the younger Winchester, eyes thick with disdain. "It means she's worse than this abomination you've been screwing," he motioned at Ruby without so much as looking at her. "Now hand the girl over."

"Sorry, but you'll have to find another," Dean scowled, already preparing himself for a fight. "I'm pretty sure angelic dicks aren't her type."

Uriel craned his head to the side. "Who's going to stop us?" He scoffed as he looked between Dean and Bela, totally non-threatened. "You two lovebirds? Or how about your brother and his demon whore?"

At that thought, Uriel flicked his wrist in Ruby's direction, sending the demon crumpling against the cabin's solid wall. Sam ducked down to make sure she was okay as Cas advanced towards the backroom where Anna was hidden.

Bela wasted no time stepping up to the angel, holding her hands firmly against his chest to get him to stop walking. When he stiffly obliged she looked up at him, blue eyes pleading.

"Cas, _please_," Part of her wanted to cry, part of her wanted to smack him across the face. No matter how little she actually knew of the angel, it was enough to know that something different was definitely going on here between Cas and his current orders. He normally wouldn't have been so willing to end a girl's life otherwise. "You know this isn't right. You don't have to do this."

When he looked down at her, Bela could have sworn she saw an ounce of hesitation flicker in his eyes. She thought she had him—she _knew_ she had him—but then the angel blinked and all traces of the emotion were gone, as well as the hope that had briefly settled in her stomach.

"I am sorry," he said to her, voice low, "but this must be done."

Uriel smirked at his colleague's words, turning his eyes to Dean with a satisfied smile on his lips. "I've been waiting for this."

The dark-skinned angel drew his fist and connected it cleanly with Dean's cheekbone, sending the hunter reeling backwards before he recollected himself and ran straight towards Uriel's midsection in a tackle. As they wrestled about on the ground, Bela tried desperately to yank Cas away as he continued to walk to the other room's door, and it wasn't until Sam stood up to block him that the angel finally stopped again.

A brief part of her thought that maybe he had reconsidered; maybe that faint feeling of hesitation came back and changed his mind. Maybe he'd turn and grab Uriel up from the floor and disappear without another word as he always did.

He didn't. Instead, the angel lifted two fingers to Sam's forehead, sending him falling to the ground in unconsciousness. Bela pleaded with him again, trying to convince him that what he was about to do wasn't right, wasn't _just_, but he ignored her with a clenched jaw and moved to wrap his hand around the door's knob.

Then, suddenly, a burst of white light flooded the room and Bela thought maybe her child had done something to help them out, but her mark was fine and she didn't feel any of the familiar churning in her stomach that normally came when her baby used its powers. She blinked as the light subsided, shielding her eyes but also trying to get a good look around the room, which she now realized was completely empty of the two angels that had come to take Anna away.

Dean was still on the floor and as Bela walked over to help him to his feet, he looked around confusedly. "What the hell just happened?"

Sam, who seemed to have woken back up after the angels' disappearance, tentatively opened the adjacent room's door after helping Ruby up from the ground. When he pushed the door open, Anna was standing there looking scared and just as confused as they were, though her wrists were also slick with bright red blood.

"What the—?" Sam rushed to the young woman, wrapping his hands around her wrists to stop the blood flow as he helped her out into the larger room, sitting her down in a chair. "Anna. Anna, are you okay?"

The woman in question blinked blankly at the people standing around her.

"Did it work? Are they gone?"

Dean looked at her in concern. "Did you kill them?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, I…I just sent them away. Far away…."

As Sam rushed to clean and wrap Anna's wounds, Bela tentatively made her way towards the backroom the young girl had just emerged out of, her attention immediately going to an armoire pushed up against the wall. Her eyes widened in shock—normally, an armoire wasn't something all that special too look at, but in this case, as Bela took in the bloody, haphazard symbols that had been painted on the furniture's mirror, it was definitely something worth fretting over.

Bela suddenly realized Dean had been standing behind her, gaping at the symbols as well; though when she looked back at him, he was already regarding Anna, not knowing whether to be weary or impressed.

"How the hell did you know to do that?"

The young woman didn't look entirely sure herself. "It…it just came to me. I don't know how I did it—I just did."

Dean and Bela exchanged looks, the same question poised at the front of their minds.

_What was the goddamn deal with Anna Milton?_

* * *

**AB: **I don't know about you all, but as I was proofreading this chapter, I really loved going over the part in the beginning. It was supposed to be fluff but then it kind of advanced into something much more intimate as I continued to write it. Anyway, I know this chapter is a bit shorter, but another update will be coming soon!


	13. What Do Angels Know About Love?

After Sam securely bandaged Anna's wounds, the group wasted no time abandoning the cabin in favor of a much safer location—Singer's Salvage. Dean was relieved once Sam threw the keys to the Impala in his direction and told him the car was parked out back, stating that it'd be safer, and more comfortable, for the five of them to split up on their way to Bobby's house. Dean agreed despite the fact that he was hesitant to let Sam and Anna go off with Ruby who he, even though he was begrudgingly grateful to for helping him and his companions when they were in need, was still having trouble completely trusting.

Nevertheless, the group briefly said their goodbyes, and Dean and Bela were the first to break off and embark on the drive to their next destination. The trip was short enough that they wouldn't have to stop at a motel to get some rest; if they drove non-stop they'd be at the old man's house within the next six or seven hours. As they sat silently in the car, though, the both of them were starting to regret not dragging along one of the others with them.

The awkwardness was evident between them. Back when their almost-kiss was interrupted, she would have murdered a man to have just a little more time to crush her lips against his and have him wrap his arms around her frame. But that was then; that was when they were still in the moment. Now, as they sat in the darkness of the car, Bela quite felt like opening her door and taking a dive out on to the road blurring by them. It surely seemed like a better option than sitting in the mass of tension that was pent-up emotion and the lack of anything to say to make it go away.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_, Bela cursed herself, pressing her cheek to the cold window. Shouldn't have touched him, shouldn't have let him touch _her_. What did this mean now? Did this change the dynamic of their relationship? Were they going to bicker around company but caress each other's bodies behind closed doors? Were they going to breathe each other in while alone, but exhale all of their feelings when they weren't?

Was this anything _real_?

She wanted to uppercut herself. Of course it was bloody real. If it wasn't, she wouldn't have let herself get so close.

Mentally, she scoffed at how pathetic she was being. Once upon a time, Bela Talbot knew better than to fall in love.

They briefly stopped to grab something to eat, and while Dean scarfed down his food, Bela barely even touched hers. She took a bite from the cheeseburger before replacing the foil, placing the thing back in the bag and crossing her legs unsatisfyingly at the knee. It wasn't that she wasn't hungry or that she didn't like the food—her appetite was simply nonexistent. She had so many things rushing around her head at the moment that she thought if she tried to eat, she wouldn't be able to hold the contents down for long.

Even though it was dark, she could feel Dean eyeing her.

"Missing the stockpile of yogurt you have back at home?" he teased.

She sighed. "Yogurt is actually very delicious."

His voice lowered. "Humor me."

"I'm just not hungry," she lied, praying her stomach wouldn't betray her and choose that moment to rumble. It didn't.

He was quick to catch her omission. "You haven't eaten since six this morning."

Her eyes slid over to the clock on the dashboard. It was almost midnight.

Dean must have caught her hesitation, because she immediately sensed a sudden shift in his body language. It was less rigid—concerned.

"What's wrong?"

Bela bit her lip. She was glad that he couldn't see her in the obscurity of the car. "I'm fine, Dean."

"No, you're not," He paused and tapped his thumb once against the steering wheel, hesitant. "Is…is it because of—?

Her face flushed as she recalled the feeling of his thumb ghosting against her lip and she licked them subconsciously. "N-no, it wasn't—well…yeah, I suppose," she let out a frustrated sigh. "But not in a bad way. I liked it. I liked it a lot. I'm just—"

"—confused? Stuck. Scared..." She briefly saw that he was looking at her intently as a bypassing car's headlights briefly illuminated his face, "…tempted."

Bela's mouth twitched as the words touched her ears. She nodded slowly, absorbedly.

"Me too," he breathed, "You're not alone. So, please, could you calm my worries and eat something?"

Bela blinked. Something about his tone told her that it was taking a lot of his willpower to refrain from pulling the car over and drawing her into his arms, but she simply pressed her lips together in poorly sustained pleasure and unwrapped her cheeseburger again.

She was, of course, correct in her first assumption. Dean was gripping the steering wheel tight as he drove. It was taking all of his might to keep from putting the Impala in park right there in the middle of the road and crushing his lips against hers, pulling her lithe body flush against his own solid one and relishing in their shared warmth. He wanted to. _Boy_, did he want to. But he also knew that there'd be a better time for it—a time when they both weren't confined in the front seat of his car.

Instead, Dean concerned himself with the road, as well as looking over now-and-then to make sure that she was actually eating. She scarfed the cheeseburger down in record time and stubbornly refused to look at him afterwards, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of admitting that she had been, in actuality, quite starving. He gave her a final knowing smile before looking back at the road and they were both quiet for the rest of the ride. In fact, by the time Dean pulled the Impala in front of Bobby's house, the sun was just rising and Bela was fast asleep. As he looked over at her relaxed form, he almost didn't want to wake her; considered leaving her to rest for a few more hours as he went inside and caught up with the old man. However, he knew better, and instead leaned over to gingerly touch her arm.

Instantly, she stirred awake.

They didn't say anything as they both clambered out the car, Bela groggily following Dean up to the front door and yawning tiredly as he knocked and waited for Bobby to answer. The old man was quick, though, and he already had guests in the form of Sam, Ruby and Anna waiting inside. After exchanging their greetings, Bobby led them down to the panic room in his basement, not bothering to warn Ruby about the demon wards as she attempted to step through the vault's open door and instead felt as if she had connected face-first with a solid brick wall.

Dean poorly hid a snicker.

"Oops—forget to mention," Bobby didn't seem the least bit sorry as he went on anyway, "Iron walls coated in pure salt and traps painted all over the joint. You won't even be able to touch the place."

Ruby crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at the group of humans gathered inside the panic room. "Well, that's rude."

"Don't take it personal," Dean jabbed.

"Whatever," Ruby rolled her eyes, reaching into her pocket and tossing the hunter a bundle of small, rough cloth sacks. "Take these."

"Hex bags?"

"With an extra kick," Ruby nodded in affirmation. "They'll keep us hidden from angels, demons; the whole biblical lot."

Sam gave the demon a look of gratitude. "Thanks, Ruby," he handed Anna a hex bag to tuck into her pocket. "How are you feeling? Hearing anything from the angels?"

"It's quiet. Dead air." The young woman replied.

Bela ran a hand through her hair. "That's reassuring," she murmured cynically.

Anna looked between her and Dean worriedly. "We're in danger, aren't we? You guys are scared."

Sam gave her a kind look. "Not one bit," he smiled before turning to his brother. "I _do_ need to talk with you and Bela, though."

Anna's eyes fell. "Now, _that's_ reassuring."

"It's nothing serious," Sam quickly affirmed, "I just need to discuss something with them. It's nothing to be worried about. We're safe, okay?"

His words seemed to satisfy her for the time being as the younger Winchester was followed out the panic room and upstairs by Dean and Bela. As soon as he was sure they were out of earshot, he turned and gave them each a thoughtful look.

"It's about Anna," he immediately started. "I did a little research on her during our car ride. I didn't find much—her parents, Rich and Amy Milton, were a deacon and housewife, as we already knew."

"Yeah, yeah, get to the good stuff," Dean was looking at his brother expectantly.

Sam obliged. "Well, this psych episode—turns out it wasn't her first. When she was two-and-a-half, she got hysterical anytime her dad got close. She was convinced he wasn't her biological father."

"What?" Bela was the one that was looking at him expectantly now. "Were things not all that happy at home—mom had an affair?"

"No," Sam shook his head. "Their marriage was tight, loving. Anna never said who she thought her real dad was, just said that he was mad. Like, wanted-to-kill-her mad."

Bela frowned uncomfortably. "That's pretty intense for a two year-old."

"Well, she saw a kid's shrink. Got better, grew up normal."

"Until now," Dean finished, nodding his head once. "So, what's she hiding?"

A new voice joined the trio. "Why don't you just ask me?"

The three turned around to find Anna watching them with poorly masked hurt in her eyes, Ruby walking up unaffectedly behind her with an almost bored expression on her face. Distantly, they could hear Bobby shuffling about in another part of the house.

Dean glared at her. "What happened to keeping an eye on her?"

"You never gave me explicit orders, _sir_," Ruby said mockingly, "Besides, I'm watching her now."

Sam was already raising his hands at his sides to calm the both of them down, especially as his brother opened his mouth to snap at the demon. After making sure they were going to behave, Sam turned to look at Anna.

"I'm sorry—you're right. Is there anything you want to tell us?"

Anna looked him unfalteringly in the eye. "About what?"

"The angels implied you weren't as innocent as we believe you are," Bela continued for him, trying not to sound too harsh with her words. She truly wanted to believe that Anna was innocent, though her reasoning was completely selfish—she really wasn't sure she'd be able to handle being betrayed at the moment. "Why would they think that?"

"You tell me," the young woman bit out, voice trembling ever-so-slightly. "Tell me why my life has been entirely wiped out; my parents dead, mistaken for being crazy, abandoned by my friends. I want to know just as much as you do. I would give anything to know why."

"Alright," Sam was the one to talk next. "Then let's find out."

Anna looked at him confusedly. "How?"

* * *

If they would have told her "how" before, Bela probably would have made a beeline in the opposite direction of the house. Instead, Sam left them out in the dark, only informing Bobby of his plan while assuring the others that he had everything taken care of. Now, as the Englishwoman watched pensively as Dean led Pamela down the stairs to the panic room, she wanted to smack the younger Winchester across the head. Or maybe find one of the many secret hiding places Bobby had no doubt installed inside of his home and lock herself there until Pamela had left.

Maybe she could do both. Yeah, both sounded good.

Sam got up from his spot to further help the psychic down the last couple of steps, leading her into the room with a hand pressed softly against her back as Dean followed closely from behind.

"Pamela, hey," The younger brother warmly gushed, turning to engulf the small woman in a tentative hug as she looked in the direction of his voice.

As they hugged, Pam asked, "Sam?"

The man in question made an attempt to step back but remained locked tight in her surprisingly strong grip. He smiled instead. "Uh, yeah, it's me."

"_Sam_?" Her voice was slightly louder.

"_Yeah_, hey, Pam—"

A broad, teasing smile crossed the woman's face. "Oh, good, it's you. You know how can I tell?" As she snaked her hands further down Sam's back, he let out a surprised shout. Apparently, Pam had just squeezed the younger Winchester's butt. "That firm ass of yours. Of course I know it's you, grumpy. Just like I know that's a demon, and that poor girl's Anna, and that's—"

Bela suddenly froze as she realized the psychic was now facing her.

"Bela," Suddenly, a warm smile crossed over Pamela's features as she made her way over to the Englishwoman, pulling her in an unanticipated hug. "It's good to see you—well, you know what I mean." She let out a heavy chuckle.

Warming slightly in the cheeks, Bela gradually relaxed into the hug and tentatively returned the gesture. "Yeah…yeah, it's good to see you, too."

As Pamela pulled back, she smoothed a hand reassuringly down Bela's arm. Her voice was nearly a whisper as she spoke to her next. "You can relax, sweetheart. I'm not angry with you."

"What're you talk—?"

Pamela smiled broadly at her, tapping the side of her head once with a finger. "Psychic, remember? I know what's running around in that pretty little head of yours," she leaned forward to make sure that no one else would be able to hear what she was about say. "Can't say I'm surprised about you and the older brother, though."

Bela was blushing ever-so-slightly once the psychic pulled back and the others in the room were looking at the two of them quizzically.

Before anyone could get a chance to inquire; however, Pamela turned and faced the young redhead in the room. "Hey, Anna. How are you? I'm Pamela."

"Um, hello."

"The boys told me what's been going on. I'm excited to help."

"Oh," A faint smile crossed Anna's lips. "Thank you. That's nice of you."

Pamela shrugged. "Not really. Any chance I get to screw over an angel, I'm gonna take it."

"Why?"

"They stole something from me." It was here that Pamela reached up and slipped off the pair of dark sunglasses on her nose, revealing two gray-colored pupils where her actual brown ones had once been. To her credit, Anna didn't flinch or waver, and instead waited as Pamela continued. "Demon-y, I know, but they're just plastic. It's good for business; makes me look extra psychic, don't you think?" She laughed humorously. "Now, why don't you tell me about you, hm? Don't you worry, Anna."

Anna told Pamela about her visions and the voices inside her head; it didn't take long for the psychic to come up with an initial idea, gently leading the red-head to the nearby cot—with Sam's help, of course—and sitting in a chair just beside her as she laid down. Anna looked a bit nervous, Bela noted, though she also knew the poor girl had every reason to be. Here she was, about to go through god knew what, in search of answers to her situation. Bela could relate. Not even four months prior she was in Anna's same shoes, placing her faith in Pamela's hands without knowing what was lying in wait ahead of her.

Pamela began to speak to the young woman in gentle, calm tones. "Good—nice and relaxed, Anna. Now, I'm going to count down from five. When we're at zero, you'll be in a deep state of hypnosis. As I count down, just let yourself loose, okay?" She proceeded with the countdown. "Deep sleep…deep sleep. Every muscle; calm and relaxed. Can you hear me, Anna?"

The woman in question moved her head in what Bela assumed to be a nod. "I can hear you."

"Now, Anna, tell me: how can you hear the angels? How did you work that spell to send them away?"

"I…don't know. I just did."

Pamela craned her head to the side. "Alright, but I want you to look further, deeper. When you were young, just a couple years old; a little girl."

Bela watched as Anna's fists tensed at her sides. "I-I don't want to."

"It'll be okay," Pamela soothed, "Just one look—that's all we need."

"No—"

"What's your dad's name? Your real dad? Why is he angry with you?"

"No. _No._ No, no, no!" Anna suddenly let out a feral scream, body trembling harshly but not moving from a horizontal position. "_He's going to kill me!_"

Pamela was holding her hands above the young woman's body. "Anna, you're safe."

She shook her head violently in disagreement. "_No!_"

Suddenly, the lights overhead shattered and glass rained down on them, though they were too intent on Anna's screams to be bothered. She was still writhing on the bed, head shaking back-and-forth and with Pamela trying to soothe her with her voice.

"Calm down, Anna."

Another scream. "He's gonna _kill_ me!"

"It's all right, Anna."

Sam took a tentative half-step forward, looking at the young woman in concerned. He made a motion as if to reach out to her. "Anna—?"

Pamela reached up to gently push his hand away. "Sam, don't," The younger brother did as he was told and stepped away, though he was hesitant and kept his pensive gaze locked on Anna's almost wild form. "Wake in one, two, three, four, five. Anna…Anna, are you alright?"

It was quiet for a moment. Anna seemed as if she was unconscious—or, worse, even dead. Sam made another move as if to touch her but her eyes suddenly snapped open before he could, staring intently at the ceiling for a brief minute before sliding them over to regard the psychic sitting beside her.

"Thank you, Pamela. That was very helpful. I remember now."

Bela stepped up beside Dean to curiously look down at the young woman. "Remember what, exactly?"

"Who I am."

"I'll bite," Dean said, "Who are you?"

The red head looked unwaveringly between the humans crowding around her as she rose on steady legs.

"I'm an angel."

Pamela was the one to react first, immediately taking a small step away from the young woman and causing Sam to rush over to keep her from misplacing her footing. Anna noticed the psychic's weariness and tried to give her a reassuring nod, even though the woman wouldn't be able to see it.

"Don't worry. I'm not like the others."

"I don't find that very assuring," Pamela replied, voice edged with slight malice.

Ruby suddenly looked as if she didn't mind the fact that she couldn't step foot into the room. "Neither do I."

Anna turned her attention to Bela and the brothers. "So, Castiel and Uriel. They're the ones that came for me?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You know them?"

"We were…kind of a unit," The newly-discovered angel bent her head in sanction.

"So, they were, what, your bosses or something?"

Anna wore a small smirk on her lips. "Try the other way around."

Bela raised her eyebrows, impressed. "Not bad," The expression turned as she drew her eyebrows together. "But they want to kill you now?"

"Orders are orders," Anna said, and Bela wanted to roll her eyes at the mention of the word, but she didn't. "I'm not surprised I have a death sentence on my head."

Sam frowned. "Why do they want your head anyway?"

"I disobeyed—which, for us, is about the worst thing you could do." She paused and blinked once. "I fell."

Dean gave the woman a confused look. "What, they don't have angelic Band-Aids up there or something?"

"No, she means she fell to earth," Pamela clarified. "She became human."

"Wait, that's possible?" Sam asked, disbelieving.

"It actually hurts," Anna continued, "Try cutting out your kidney with a butter knife. I ripped out my grace." As Dean gave her another lost look, she added, "It's…angel energy. I tore it out and fell. My mother, Amy, couldn't get pregnant. She always called me her 'little miracle'."

Bela couldn't help but notice that Anna's eyes looked a little sad at that last part.

"And, what, you just forgot you were an angel?" Dean still seemed completely confused by the prospect.

Anna nodded her head. "The older I got, the longer I was human, yeah."

"I don't think any of you are grasping how completely screwed we are," Ruby spoke up from her position on the other side of the door, an apprehensive expression on her face.

"Ruby's right. Heaven wants me dead—Hell wants me alive."

"A flesh-and-blood angel that you can question, torture; _break_," Ruby ran a hand through her dark hair. "Sister, you're the first-place prize. Sooner or later, heaven or angel, they're gonna find you."

"I'm aware," Anna said, "And that's why I'm gonna get my grace back."

Bela frowned. "How do you expect to do that, might I ask? _Can_ you even do that?"

Anna nodded. "If I can find it."

"And when—_if_—you do, how's that gonna work? You just shove the thing down your throat and _voila_?" Dean made a gesture with his hands, something that looked roughly like a pair of flapping angel wings.

"Something like that."

Dean cocked his head to the side. "Alright, I'm game," Bela rolled her eyes—_of course he would be. _"Any idea where this grace of yours is?"

"Lost track," the woman shrugged, "I was falling at about ten-thousand miles per hour at the time."

"Wait—you mean actually _falling?_ Like, literally?"

Anna looked unaffected by the younger Winchester's incredulousness. "Yes."

"Like the way a human eye can see? A comet, maybe, or a meteor?"

No one had enough time to ask what Sam was getting at as he suddenly broke off from the group, pushing past Ruby into the hallway and disappearing up the stairs. Dean was just about to head after him almost twenty minutes later when the insanely tall man returned, eyes glued to an open book as he walked back inside.

"Here. In '85, a meteorite vanished in the night sky over northwestern Ohio. It was sighted nine months before Anna was born, right around her hometown."

Ruby considered him with a smirk. "You're pretty buff for a nerd."

Sam ignored her comment. "Look, I think it was Anna," he pointed to another article, "And here, same time—another meteor over Kentucky."

"And you're thinking that's her grace?" His brother questioned.

"Maybe."

Bela ran a hand through her hair. "Well, that just about narrows it down to an entire state."

Sam shot her a weak glare. "Look, it's a start, alright?"

* * *

Dean was standing outside, leaning against the frame of a rusted car that had been scrapped of most of its parts. He had a beer in his hand and the moon was hovering just above him as he gazed subconsciously into a darkened field of dead grass, expanding for miles beyond Singer's Salvage like a dried out ocean. He had just polished off the rest of his beer when he felt a presence beside him, one that was soft and…unmistakably feminine.

He had a small smile on his face as he turned to look at his new companion, though it fell ever-so-slightly as he realized that it was Anna-the-Angel standing beside him, and not Bela.

"Don't look so excited to see me," Anna smiled, leaning against the car a few inches away from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

Dean attempted to cover his tracks, clearing his throat. "I, uh—"

Anna laughed. "I was only teasing," she replied, and after a few seconds added, "Did Pamela get home okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "She said she was sorry. It's just after last time…she, uh, things just got a little too rich for her blood."

"I don't blame her. You guys should do the same."

"Well, we're not that smart. Plus, we're too damn stubborn for our own good," Dean rubbed the back of his head, smiling wistfully. "Hey, can I ask you something? The angels…did they ever, you know, say why I'm here? Why they brought Bela and I back?"

Anna gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. They never said anything pertaining to that. It was after I fell."

"Why'd you do that, anyway? Why give up your angel mojo?" His tone took on a slight bitterness. "Why be one of _us_?"

"You don't mean that." Anna turned to look up at his profile. He was gritting his teeth.

He scoffed. "Don't I? We're just a bunch of—of miserable bastards. Eating, crapping, confused, afraid."

"I don't know," Anna shrugged, "There's loyalty, forgiveness…love."

"Pain," Dean argued.

"Chocolate cake."

"Guilt."

Anna's eyes took on a sort of twinkle. "Sex."

Dean rubbed his neck, suddenly uncomfortable. "Can't argue with you there."

"I mean it, Dean," the angel continued, tone growing serious, "The emotions, the feelings—it's all worth it. Angels don't have any of that. Just imagine…imagine not being able to feel any _spark_ when you're in the same room with the person you love. Imagine not being able to touch them and feel a current riveting through your body. Imagine being and seeing in black and white—nothing."

Dean glanced at her suspiciously. "What're you getting at?"

"You've experienced that current, Dean; that spark. It's so strong you could practically almost see it, tethering you two together—"

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"I'm talking about you and Bela," Anna looked up at him unwaveringly. "Tell me, Dean, if you were stripped of all emotional culpability, right now, would you miss the spark and current you feel with her?"

Dean hesitated to answer. He glanced away and stared at an invisible object a few feet away. When it became obvious that Anna wasn't going to just drop the subject and leave him alone, he turned his gaze forward and stared out at the field again.

"Yeah," he finally answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Anna nodded, and then they were quiet again. He understood, but that didn't mean he wanted to talk about it any further. She was insinuating that he was in love with Bela—he knew he had feelings for her, that much was obvious, but _love_? Did Dean even _do_ love that deep? He loved Sam and he loved Baby and he loved cheeseburgers and he loved booze. But did he love _Bela_, the one woman who screwed him over so many times in the past but has now grown to be one of the few people he actually trusts?

Later that night, as Dean lay on his bed staring at the ceiling of one of Bobby's numerous guest bedrooms, he began to think that maybe he just might.


	14. PLEASE READ THIS

**This is not a chapter update and I'm sorry to everyone who thought it was.

ALSO, i'm sorry to have to say this, but I'm putting this story on **TEMPORARY **hiatus. I'm really busy as of late and a lot of personal stuff is going on right now and I'm also going to take the time to reevaluate this story and where I want to take it because honestly I don't even think it's close to halfway finished and I just really don't have the time right now.

With that said, I am **not** abandoning this fic. I'm going to try to update it as much as I can, but updates will probably be heavily infrequent or spacious. However, I won't be entirely inactive from this site, so please don't get mad if you see me posting other short works, such as one-shots or drabbles. I'm not going to be starting another multi-chapter fic anytime soon, especially with this lengthy one going on, but I'm not falling entirely off the grid either.

I'm sorry to anyone who was enjoying this story. I guess I got really over my head with this one. What started out as a small idea heavily adapted into something totally...expansive. **I love this story so much though, don't get me wrong, I just really need a break from it right now**.

Thank you for anyone who read this message and again I'd like to apologize. I'll leave this note up in the chapters even as I update the story, just to keep everyone else informed!


End file.
